The Royal Affair
by SimplyShelbySJL
Summary: Prince Charles of England has all he wants, until Lady Blair arrives to Court. She is desirable, provoking, and manipulative. But she is also engaged to his future stepbrother. A game of seduction will begin bathed in banishment and blood. No one is safe.
1. There Should Have Been Blood

Chapter One:

**There Should Have Been Blood**

_Urbino, Italy_

Jack stared out the carriage window with a rather tense gaze. His shoulders were locked straight and he had not relaxed since they set out that morning. Those with him had asked if something was wrong, but he dismissed their questioning before they could even form a full sentence.

"Following that agenda your Grace has received a letter from his majesty, the King of England, this morning," his advisor informed him. He then began to unwrap the scroll in means of reading it.

"No," Jack said suddenly, turning towards him. He took the dispatch from the other man and tucked it into his coat. "I shall read anything from my brother or any other member of the English Court later," he told him with a definite tone.

"But it is from the King," the advisor protested, looking astonished. He was used to Jack's strange and sometimes disrespectful actions, but what if the letter was of great importance?

"And I am the King's brother. Do not forget your place, Sir. You answer to _me_," Jack emphasized. He put a hand to his chest and tightened his jaw, eyes narrowing.

The other man's eyes immediately fell and he bowed his head. "Of course, your Grace. Please do forgive me," his advisor beseeched.

Jack did not reply, but instead shifted his gaze back to the carriage window. It was a grim day in Italy. One would think almost the perfect setting for disaster to erupt, one ending in _royal_ amounts of grief.

"Halt! What say you?" a man shouted from outside. It was their man, the one who lead the caravan of carriages. It was silent for a moment and then he screamed again, but with much more urgency in his voice. "I ordered thee to halt!"

"What could be going on?" his advisor sighed. He then sat up to look out the window. Just as he did his eyes widened. "Your Grace, it is the French!" he whispered urgently.

Jack then heard the sound of horses galloping and shouts of many men. He stayed calm though and slowly edged towards the other door of his carriage.

"They are attacking us, your Grace! We must—" His advisor turned to look back at him and frowned. "Your Grace, where are you going?"

"Not where you are," Jack replied. He then lifted his foot and kicked the man as hard as he could out of the carriage and straight onto a sword of the Frenchman waiting outside. He then turned and climbed out the opposite side of his carriage, as planned.

"Your Grace, the French are attacking," a servant man shouted, latching onto Jack with a crazed look of fear in his eyes.

"I have heard! Now come along!" Jack seethed. He then dragged the man with him into the woods, hiding between the trees. Once far enough, both he and the man turned to look back at the gruesome sight. All carriages were being destroyed and bodies lied bloodied on the ground. Only one carriage was left and the attackers were now circling around it, ready to pounce.

"The Prince's carriage," the servant man gasped. He then turned to Jack with a dire look in his eyes. "We must go back, your Grace. We are to defend him with our life," he urged.

Jack only stared at him though, and then back at the carriage, which had been set on fire. He shook his head. "I have no cause to save a dead man. Now come along, servant."

The man looked horrified, but listened to order. He started down the path, only stopping when he realized his master had.

Jack looked back once more at the burning carriage. He smirked, "The Prince of England and only heir of King Bartholomew is dead."

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Whitehall Palace, London_

Bart entered the throne room with a most rigid of postures and darkest of eyes. All the highest members of Court had gathered. Everyone was shouting and arguing with each other over what had happened and in turn what would be done about it. Then he saw his brother, Jack, right in the middle of it. He stood high, on a table as he silenced the room.

Bart looked to his servant with a staff and shook his head. He did not want to be announced, but to examine what was going on first. He went unnoticed.

"I come to you today as the sole survivor!" Jack shouted. He was passionate; his hand beat hard against his chest as his eyes moved to everyone in the room. "My men, the good men of England, were attacked and murdered in Italy by the French!" he furthered.

"Bloody bastards!" a man from the crowd shouted. Everyone else in the room urged him on with cries of hate.

Jack nodded and held up his hands. They silenced again. "They came upon us from behind, like the true cowards they are! They came—" He paused and looked pained. "They came to murder our Prince and in turn the future of our people!"

"How dare they?" another man screamed. The crowd once again supported his outburst and all cheered in a savage agreement.

"Yes, how dare they," Jack nodded. He then pointed his finger to the people. "You, the good people of England, can surely see this is a just cause for war! We need to show the French that we shall seek vengeance!"

Everyone began to cheer and Jack smiled. He then turned though to see Bart and his face fell. He bowed his head and got down from the table. The room silenced, all turning towards the King, as they dropped to their knees as well.

Bart looked at all of them with icy blue eyes and an eerie silence. He stepped into the middle of the room, practically meeting the eyes of every man. Then he raised his hand. "Is my son dead?" he bellowed.

The room was silent.

"I said is my son, your Prince, dead?" Bart screamed with full force. He was shaking with a sense of lividness.

Finally, Jack stepped forth. "His carriage was burnt to the ground. I did not see an escape. In trying to rescue him even my own servant was _murdered_," he told him in a seemingly grim voice.

Bart turned his back to the crowd and grasped his throne for a moment. He looked as if he would fall over and even his servant moved to help him. "No," Bart uttered and held up his hand. His servant halted. The King then turned back around to face the crowd.

Bart then began to make the announcement. "If the French took my son then war is—"

The doors burst open and Bart silenced. Everyone turned to see the Duke Archibald and his son, Nathaniel. They both bowed.

Then the Duke walked up to the King. "Your majesty, forgive me for interrupting, but I bring urgent news. I have just heard word from Italy that the Prince of England, your son Charles, was not in his carriage when it set out that morning," Duke Archibald told him, sounding out of breath.

Bart's eyes widened and he held a hand to his heart.

"That is impossible!" Jack outburst and stepped forth in front of the King as well. He shook his head and scoffed. He appeared very unhappy.

Bart immediately looked to him. "Jack, did you or did you not see Charles get into the carriage?" he demanded. His eyes threatened him to be certain.

Jack stared at him for a moment. Then he shook his head and turned away.

Bart sighed in relief and mumbled a prayer under his breath. Then he looked back to the crowd. "No war yet, not until my son, the Prince of England, is found!" he proclaimed.

No one in the crowd dared to protest, not even Jack.

Bart nodded, "You are all dismissed." He then turned and disappeared through the curtains behind his throne.

The crowd slowly began to talk, a low murmur sound about the room. Jack made his way through them, but stopped to glare at Duke Archibald.

Nate, who watched, looked for his father's reaction. The Duke only bowed his head though and then allowed Jack to storm out of the room. He shook his head, "Now if we only could know where his highness truly is."

Nate sighed, "If you could grant me only one guess, father."

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Urbino, Italy_

"Wake-up, your highness," a girl's voice whispered in the most playful of tones.

Chuck who lied half-asleep on his back, batted his eyes open. He felt feminine fingertips trailing over his back while those of another used a feather to tickle the skin of his cheek.

"Yes, our beautiful Prince of England," the other girl giggled.

He smirked and opened his eyes fully. Both girls kneeled before the bed smiling at him. They were two beautiful women of the Italian Court had had brought back to his chambers the night before.

Chuck laughed and shot up suddenly. Both girls giggled and backed away from him. "Who shall be first?" he asked. He then grabbed onto the pole and swung himself off and around the bed to chase them.

They screamed in giggles and ran to get on the bed. One succeeded, but the other one was grabbed from behind.

Chuck immediately began to pull off her rather thin nightgown and kicked it to the floor. He then pushed her down onto the bed, so that she lied on her stomach. He fell down on top of her and moved her hair to kiss the back of her neck. Then he rose again and positioned himself for entry.

He began to thrust into her, first quickly and anxiously, but then slowly and powerfully. The girl moaned in delight and her eyes rolled back into her head. He looked to the ceiling and released a sigh of pure sexual relief.

He felt the other girl wrap her arms around him from behind. He smirked and continued to penetrate the one on the bed while the other kissed his neck.

"His highness is so powerful. I want a turn," she begged in his ear. Her voice was a whine, but that of a tantalizing one.

Chuck nodded and shoved the other girl forward as he pulled out. He turned and yanked the one standing towards him. He kissed her on her lips feverishly as his hands reached under her thighs to hoist her upwards. He had just thrown her onto the bed when the doors suddenly opened.

"Your high—"

Chuck looked up, first angered for being interrupted. He then saw it was his servant from England he had brought. He smirked and said breathlessly, "Young Daniel, why have you come at such an early hour?"

Dan averted his eyes away from the naked women immediately. Instead he looked down and nodded his head. "To prove that you are not dead, your highness," he answered.

"Oh shit," Chuck sighed as his face fell.

Dan nodded, "Whenever you are ready to return to England, your highness. I do find it my duty to remind you that it is something the King, your father, deems of great importance." He then bowed and turned to leave.

"Yes," Chuck nodded. He then laughed and called after him right before the doors closed. "And to think, I was just starting to have fun!"

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Hampton Court, Surrey_

"I am sure Charles is fine. Please do not despair, your majesty," Lily whispered in the most soothing of voices. She stood behind Bart and kept one hand on his shoulder as the other stroked his cheek. They were alone in his study and she saw it her duty to comfort him. She was his only mistress after all.

Bart did not utter a word in response. Instead he closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. His tight hold on the arms of his chair let up some and his back relaxed. He was by no means completely at ease, but only momentarily subdued.

A loud knock sounded on the large door.

"Enter," Bart allowed and opened his eyes again. He sat up straight in his chair and felt Lily take a proper position. Then he watched as two of his most respected men entered the room.

"Cardinal Wolsey and Duke Archibald, what say you?" Bart asked. He then motioned for them to sit in the two chairs across from him. Both men bowed before doing so.

"Your majesty, I bring word that your army and fleet are assembling. If you so wished England could go to war with France in a matter of weeks," Howard, or Duke Archibald, reported.

"Very good," Bart sighed. He then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was on the fence about war with France. For him, most of it relied on whether his son was alive…or dead.

"Still, we have come to beseech that your majesty remember the many tragedies war can bring. France's army is now well equip and in order for England to stand so powerfully against it as in the past—taxes would need to be raised," Cardinal Wolsey told him. He shook his head. "Your majesty knows that is not always so popular with the common people."

"Yes, I am well aware," Bart refuted. He then looked to both men and shook his head. "However, neither you or any countryman of England can deny action need be taken if they have killed my son, my heir, your Prince. How could I ever simply excuse it?" His voice was low and tense.

Howard nodded, "Of course, your majesty, but—"

"But what?" Bart questioned, his voice rising in volume.

Duke Archibald paused for a moment and then prepared to speak. "I have it on good authority that there is reason to believe that a form of foul play took place in Italy. It seems the French soldiers who attacked the Royal English carriages were only imposters. The King of France backs up this statement by denying any order against your majesty and his family," he divulged.

"Well he would, would he not?" Bart returned. He would be hard to reason with until he saw his son standing physically before him.

Cardinal Wolsey noted the strained feel of the room and decided it best to cut in. He cleared his throat. "Your majesty, all we ask is that if the Prince is not dead that this investigation proceed and that your majesty also find way to mend relations with France," he preached.

Bart turned to him. "Well Cardinal, in theory, how shall I do that?" His eyebrows rose in question and lips pursed.

The Cardinal exchanged a look with Duke Archibald and then met the King's eyes once more. "With marriage, your majesty," he answered.

Lily immediately looked down to Bart for his reaction. Surprisingly he was rather calm, but just much more rigid like before.

Bart leaned forward and lowered his voice. He shook his head, "You both very well know that I swore to never take another Queen after the passing of my most beloved wife, much less a French one."

"She is not French, your majesty. She was born in England and is only residing in Paris momentarily with her son, Thomas Gray, the first Earl of Essex. She is Catherine Gray, Duchess of Somerset, but more importantly she holds the respect of both the French and English people," Cardinal Wolsey explained.

"Yes," Bart nodded, "I remember word of her late husband. He was a very respected man." He then leaned back in his chair and sighed, trying to think.

His moment to reflect soon ended though when the doors flew open to reveal a frantic looking servant, Rufus Humphrey. He put a hand to his chest and bowed. "Forgive me for intruding your majesty, but the Prince arrived to Hampton Court early this morning and I have just been given word," he announced, sounding gravely out of breath.

"That boy," Bart seethed and stood abruptly. It was entirely in his son's behavior to do what had just been reported to him. He then went to leave, but saw Cardinal Wolsey and Duke Archibald stand and bow.

He nodded to the Cardinal. "Gather all the arrangements for the offering of my engagement and marriage. I no longer have cause to go to war with France, but only perhaps with my son," Bart called out and then left the room.

"Of course, your majesty," Cardinal Wolsey replied back to him. He and Duke Archibald then took their exit as well.

Lily watched all of them go, particularly the King, with hurt displayed upon her countenance. She wished to go after him, but knew it was not at all wise. So instead she stayed behind and averted her gaze to the still open door. There she met the eyes of Rufus Humphrey.

"Lady Lily," Rufus bowed.

"Sir Humphrey," Lily returned. She then turned away from him and pretended to look out the window instead. She heard the door shut when he left, leaving her completely alone.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck laughed loudly, racquet in hand, as he hit the leather ball with all his might. It flew way over the net, across the Royal Indoor Tennis Court. It passed both men on the other side and the bell rang to let all watching know he scored a point. The people behind the net, members of Court, cheered for him.

"Another one for his majesty!" Nate called out with a chuckle of his own. He smiled at Chuck, both breathing heavily, as the Prince patted him on the back.

"And to think, Dear Nathaniel that mere hours ago I had just escaped being killed in the name of sex," Chuck replied with an amused smirk. Both men laughed much louder then in union.

Chuck then turned and looked across to the other players, also men he kept close in Court. "Another game then, if you're up for it that is?" he asked with the smuggest of grins.

"Please," Edmund shouted back, "We were letting his highness win. After all, he did arrive from Italy just this morning!" He then chortled.

His teammate walked in front of him though and shook his head with a smile. "Actually I was playing as hard as I could," William jested. He then winked at Chuck, happy when the Prince smiled in approval.

"Speaking of your arrival," Nate remarked as he position himself next to Chuck, "How is it you haven't told your father, the King of England—especially given what has happened?"

Chuck rolled his eyes and sighed, "Please Nathaniel, allow me a bit of fun first. You know how much I like to put off my father's Royal scolding."

Nate nodded with another chuckle. "That I do. As for your fun, I believe that was what started the most of this—other than your planned assassination of course," he noted.

"Like the French could assassinate anyone, especially the Prince of England. It is nothing, but an insult in that they underestimated the strength of my Country," Chuck returned, still not fazed in the least.

"Not strength your grace, but your stamina," Nate corrected once more in a joking, but still serious manner. Both boys laughed yet again. Then Nate stopped though and nudged Chuck. "Look over there, do you see her?"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "There are many hers, Nathaniel. Please do me more specific for which Lady of the Court your eye has drawn to," he told him.

"Her," Nate said yet again. He then grabbed onto Chuck and pointed directly at the young blonde girl. "In the blue dress, hair of gold, and breasts the size of sweet melons."

"Who is she?" Chuck countered with the loudest of laughs. "Not that it seems to matter to you."

"It does," Nate replied with slight defense, but then smiled. He hit the ball with his racquet before answering. "Her name is Serena Van der Woodsen. She is a mere Lady, but more importantly the daughter of your father's mistress," he told him in a low voice.

"Lady Lily?" Chuck asked, eyebrows rising. Nate nodded and the Prince patted his shoulder. "Well, not that you asked, but you can gladly have her."

"Yes, well we of course know you have a taste for brunettes, your highness," Nate replied coolly. He then hit the ball again.

Chuck smirked for a moment, but then shook his head. "Not at all, Nathaniel. I enjoy all Gods heavenly, divine creatures," he corrected.

Suddenly the sound of the Royal staff hard against the wood sounded throughout the room. The game stopped and the crowd silenced. All, including Chuck, turned towards the doorway.

"Prince Charles, the King of England, your father, request you come to him at once!" the Royal messenger announced.

Nate turned to Chuck and bowed. "Good luck, your highness," he jested.

"This should be good," Chuck returned. Then he hurried across the Court. Everyone in the room bowed as he left the room.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck entered the throne room with a rather large smirk. He had not gone straight to his father, but instead bathed and dressed. He was the Prince of England after all and would do what he wanted. Plus he thought his father would just be relieved to see not his son, but his heir still alive no matter the situation.

"Prince Charles of England," the servant announced and banged the Royal staff against the hardwood floor.

"Uncle Jack, I heard you ran into trouble, involving the French," Chuck joked as he passed his uncle and patted him on the back.

Jack turned to face Chuck, not even hiding his bitter expression. All he saw was that the little bastard was still alive. How was he still alive?

"That is not certain now. It seems some fabricated plans were drawn up to have you killed," Bart interrupted. He stood from his throne and looked down at his son with the most serious of expressions. All signs of relief he had hidden from his facial features.

"Father," Chuck greeted with a bow. He then stood back up straight and shrugged. "Well," he smiled, "as you can see I was not killed."

"Yes, though some may say you deserve such a fate for what you were doing instead. Both of those women had husbands high in the Italian Court. The Emperor is furious," Bart retorted, shaking his head.

Chuck smirked, "Well then I suppose I should be glad since he is also furious with France, who actually had no partake in my plotted death. Correct?" He then began to laugh.

"Have you no understanding of this situation? You are to be the King of England one day yet you still act as an insolent child!" Bart bellowed.

Chuck instantly silenced and his gaze averted away from Bart's. He looked to the other men in the room, but they turned away from him. After a few moments, he sighed, "Forgive me, your majesty."

Bart only shook his head. "What would it matter? You do not even know what I should forgive you for," he recognized with a tired sounding sigh.

"Well I am free to go then, aren't I?" Chuck then bowed and quickly began to walk away. He was stupid to think his father would be happy that he was merely alive. Apparently Chuck didn't even escape death right.

"I did not dismiss you!" Bart called after him.

Chuck halted and turned back around.

His father stared at him for a few moments and then sat down in his throne. "You should also know I am to be married in order to calm relations with France," Bart informed him.

"You cannot be serious!" Chuck retorted. He moved towards his father, eyes narrowed and a fist clenched at his side.

"I am," Bart replied.

"Well then your majesty is a hypocrite! He scolds me for having relations with young women of court yet he shall now marry to replace his late wife, my mother—" Chuck started to criticize, but was cut off.

"How dare you speak to me that way!" Bart stood and shoo his finger at Chuck. "She is of proper age, even respectfully married before and the mother of a _proud_ son. As for your opinion though, I do not want it nor do I need it. Be gone with you," he ordered, dismissing all talk of Chuck bringing up his mother.

Chuck glared, "Fine." He then turned on his heel quickly and started his leave. Just before he had made it out he heard his father one last time.

"They shall be arriving in the month, if you care to know!"

"No, not at all, _father_!" Chuck shouted back before he stormed from the room completely.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: So how was it? Should I continue? Also do not despair about the absence of our favorite brunette, well favorite female brunette. Lady Blair Waldorf will be introduced in the next chapter. I am writing this while watching Season 1 of the Tudors so of course that is what is inspiring me. So think that time period. Now before you go I ask that you read my notes below, please.

**Things You Need to Know When Reading This Story: **

~ Characters are not to appear OOC, but due to the time period this story is set in (think Tudor) certain aspects of their personalities have been heightened. Nate is a great example. Also remember this story will cover a great amount of time and characters will grow, mature, etc.

~ This story is and will be very MATURE. I shall keep it at the "Teen Rating Level" until I think it should be set to mature. However, know that it will be at some point.

~ Please take notice that time obviously passes between some scenes and chapters. It is up to you to make logical estimates. I will seldom say something like, "Twelve days have passed" unless it is important for a character in the story to acknowledge.

~ Keep your mind in the time period. There will be executions in this story, some you may deem just and others you may not. But they will be there regardless. I'm certainly not saying you have to like them or dislike them, but asking that you recognize their correlation to the time period.


	2. The English Proposal

Chapter Two:

**The English Proposal**

_Paris, France_

"Introducing Catherine Gray, Duchess of Somerset and her son Thomas Gray, First Earl of Essex," the servant announced, loud and clear, so that every member of the French Court to hear.

King Francois smiled as he watched the pair enter the room in a most gracious manner. A path was cleared that led straight to the bottom steps of his projected throne. Catherine and Thomas stopped there, standing beside one another, and bowed in union.

"Your majesty," Catherine greeted and then rose to meet his eyes. "My son Thomas and I come to you in the most courteous means we can deliver from his majesty, King Bartholomew of England."

"Yes," Francois nodded, "I am well aware." He then rose and took one step down. "Tell me dear Duchess of Somerset, have you or have you not accepted King Bartholomew's proposal of matrimony?" he asked, eyebrows rising.

"That I have, Sire," Catherine answered, sparing a small smile. She then bowed her head once more, taking a step towards him.

A pleased grin came to his lips and he extended his hand before her. From there she kissed his royal ring, stepped back, bowed once more, and rose.

He laughed from utter delight and raised both arms to address his people. "Attention, good people of France. I, your King Francois I, hereby affirm my highest approval of the marriage to come between King Bartholomew of England and her Grace, the Duchess of Somerset," Francois declared.

He then turned and took his golden and jeweled cup of wine and raised it. "May they be happy and good friends to France," Francois finished and then drank.

"Aye," the crowed agreed and then all drank. Cheers were then called out and the party resumed.

King Francois sat back down on his throne, but then raised his hand once more. "Your Lordship, come to me," he called to Thomas.

Thomas Gray looked momentarily to his mother and then went forth to the king. He bowed and kissed his ring. "Your majesty, my mother and I are most grateful for your approval of her upcoming nuptials," he expressed.

"I know you are," Francois smiled, "That is why I would like you to know that when you are both presented, I and other members of the French Court wish to be present. From there, a treaty to be signed between France and England in days that follow."

"Your majesty is most kind to extend such information to a mere Earl of England, such as myself," Thomas responded, releasing an awed breath.

Francois touched his shoulder though, and gave him a small shake. "Soon to be Prince of England, Thomas. I am a much younger King than that of England's. My alliance to someone in your position is just as important," he revealed, lowering his voice.

Thomas's eyes widened, but he quickly straightened himself out and nodded. "Yes, your Majesty, but you have not forgotten that I will not be King at the passing of his Majesty of England. Prince Charles—"

"I know of Prince Charles and his disgraceful behavior, ill-temperament, and shameful exploits. You must know I consider you a far better man in the eyes of God," Francois confided.

Thomas dropped to his knees and bowed his head once more. "Your majesty is far too kind," he breathed.

"That I am," Francois returned in a rather superior fashion. He then waited for Thomas to rise and leaned to whisper in his ear. "I shall also give you a very precious gift."

"What is more precious than his majesty's love?" Thomas asked, smiling. The king then motioned for him to take the free, but of course smaller seat by his throne. Thomas sat and appeared more natural.

"She," Francois motioned to the crowd, "is the most precious gift I can give. No one in my court holds more beauty and elegance."

Thomas turned forward and knew he could mistake her for no other. She was the Lady Blair Waldorf, the most beautiful woman in the French Court. And when she danced, she appeared even more gorgeous, as if instructed by angels.

Her dress, the deepest of reds, filled with air as she spun around. She made it seem as if the floor was a pool before her feet and she danced atop it. When she raised her hands, the water became fire, and anyone who came near would surely be burned. No other woman tried to dance beside her and no man offered his hand to join when she was in such passionate movements. Her hair appeared at first dark as knight, but when the candlelight shown upon it, hints of mahogany sparkled. She did not wear it up, like other maidens of court, but let it fall freely. She spun once more and opened her eyes. He wasn't sure what color to describe them as. Brown felt so ordinary. It didn't fit her. Instead they were dark hooks to the soul of every man.

Thomas recalled she had looked at him once. It was when he first arrived to the French Court. It couldn't have been memorable for her, but it was all he thought of. She merely glanced, but it was like she saw the weakness that lied within his heart. He was instantly infatuated. He watched her each night, desired her over all others, and loved her without ever having even spoken to her.

"The Lady Blair," Thomas breathed. His eyes could no longer stray from her form, not even to meet the king's. "Your majesty, you must know she has been the object of my affection upon my arrival to your Court."

Francois smiled, "Yes, I am aware. She is the object of every man's affection in my Court, even mine."

Thomas turned, some alerted, and looked to him. He shook his head. "His majesty could make her his mistress yet he gives her to me? I must admit, I do not understand," he whispered.

Francois turned back to look at Blair. He chuckled, "She rightfully declined several invitations to my bed. I love her, but I am married. And if she will not be my mistress then I must ensure her the most prestigious of a future I can." He turned serious now, some solemn.

"I am honored Your Majesty, that you think I hold such a future," Thomas complied, nodding his head.

"You will ask her mother for her hand in marriage. Once she has accepted you will report back to me and I shall make plans to present the Lady Blair to you. This will take place on the night France and England comes in union," Francois told him. He then smirked as if he was also seeking some form of vengeance. "What England once took away, I shall give back even better than before."

Thomas frowned, "What does his Majesty mean?" He looked to the King of France, but saw that his eyes were still intensely fixated on Blair.

"You know that of which happened to her father?" Francois asked. Thomas nodded in return. "And you know that it was by Royal English hands?"

"I only know what is formally known, your Majesty. I cannot make judgment," Thomas said quickly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

Francois turned to him with slanted eyes. "Well I can. If it not for a certain member of the Royal English family, she would be gladly a duchess by now," he stated in a vexed sounding voice.

"Forgive me, but could his Majesty not make her a duchess himself? He has the rightful power before God to do so," Thomas conceded, now looking between Francois and Blair continually.

"Why would I make her a duchess when she could be a princess?" Francois smirked and touched his shoulders. "You shall make her a princess in the marriage I have blessed."

"I would want nothing else. I just pray his Majesty has done this not with disdain in his heart for England, but with his love for the Lady Blair, and peace between our countries," Thomas proclaimed, but only just above a whisper.

"Fear not, Thomas. My intentions are completely honorable," Francois smirked. He then leaned back in his throne and looked upon Blair once more.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Blair sighed as she walked down the pathway within the castle's courtyard. Her maid trailed behind her as means of a chaperone. She had been offered by several men to be escorted home, but refused. She had no interest in them. Sure they were handsome, most of them at least, but they still did not suit her. Her eyes appeared rather absentminded as she thought this over. What exactly did she want in a suitor?

"French of course," Blair whispered to herself. A smile came to her ruby lips and she laughed, shaking her head. "That is silly though. What other kind of man would I marry? An Englishman? Oh the horror."

"Did you say something, my Lady?" Dorota asked, walking up next to her. She looked to Blair, both loyal and obedient.

"No, Dorota. Now go on ahead and have the doors opened for me. It is rather cold now that the sun has said goodnight," Blair commanded. She wasn't harsh, but still strict and serious in manner.

"Yes, my Lady," Dorota replied. The maid then followed orders and proceeded in front of Blair to the servant's that stood in front of the Waldorf family's housing doors. After a few words were spared, they opened.

"Lady Blair," the two male servants greeted in union.

Blair only nodded in response and continued inside. She hoped to go straight to her room and lie down after a night of dancing, but something—or rather someone—stopped her. She came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, turned to her right, and frowned at the site in their sitting area.

"Blair, will you not properly greet our guest? Surely you are aware of who this is," Eleanor seethed immediately. Her eyes instantly scolded her daughter for being so disrespectful to someone of greater rank.

"Sorry, Mother. I am so forgetful, but filled with remorse," Blair apologized. Her tone was cold, and posture rigid. She walked over to the other two people in the room and bowed before them. "Your Lordship."

Thomas smiled as Blair rose and fully met his eyes. Her beauty once again captivated him, so much that he only realized a little while after he had finally heard her voice. It did not disappoint either. To him, an Englishman, she sounded well educated and of proper birth. Her French accent was not at all thick. One would even suggest it a cross between English and French. It was alluring, but also restrained. He wanted to hear more of it on freer terms.

"My Lady," he breathed, returning the bow. Then he stepped forward and took her hand, raising it to his lips. He placed a kiss as delicately as possible as he could on her tiny, but perfect hand.

"Thank you," Blair bit. She instantly pulled her hand away from him and wiped it on her dress where he could not see. She did not want his lips on her. He was attractive, yes. But that did not matter. He was not what she wanted. He would never be what she wanted.

Thomas then turned from Blair to Eleanor. "Thank you so much for having me in your lovely home, Lady Eleanor. I am most gracious," he told her, actually sounding genuine.

Blair rolled her eyes and scoffed under her breath. Either he was truly mad or just an excellent liar. No one could enjoy her mother's company.

"No, I am. You are a blessing, my Lord," Eleanor replied. She then took his hand and kissed it, bowing before him as if he were royalty. Well technically he would be at some point when he returned to England.

Thomas nodded and turned to Blair once more. "I shall hope to see you again, Lady Blair," he told her.

"As do many other men, your Lordship," Blair replied. She only heard him laugh as if amused by her wit. Then from the corner of eye, she watched him leave. The moment he was gone, she turned to her mother with narrowed eyes.

"Why was he here? And what is going on? He has no right being in our house, but yet I am sure you invited him in!" Blair accused instantly. It could get her slapped, but she didn't care. She had always spoken out of line when her temper got going.

Eleanor was in too good of a mood to even return her annoyance for Blair's attitude. Instead she clapped her hands together and sat down on the bench by the fire. She laughed, "You have just been offered Thomas Gray, First Earl of Essex, and soon to be Prince of England's hand in marriage. I was so elated that I accepted at once!"

Blair almost choked on her breath, eyes widened, and she felt the need to vomit. She pushed that down and stormed over to her mother, shaking her head. "No! An Englishman? I would rather rightly die!" she screamed, not caring who heard it in the courtyard outside.

Her mother stood up quickly and grabbed her roughly, putting a hand over her mouth. "Quiet down, you stupid girl!" She lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. "And you have no choice in the matter, not that you should want one. He shall make you a Princess. You heard the announcement at Court tonight since I know you were there, dancing for every man to see," Eleanor seethed, implying her unhappiness about it.

Blair pulled away from her as if the words spouting from her mother's lips were burning her. She put her hands to her chest and shook her head. "Have you not forgotten it was the English whom killed my father, your husband?" she asked with a painful, but passionate tone.

"The only thing that killed Harold was his wrong doings to me, as a wife, and to God," Eleanor dismissed. She rolled her eyes and turned her back to Blair. She hated when her late husband was brought up.

Blair stared at her mother, appalled with disbelief. She shook her head with tears in her eyes. "I will not marry him!" she cried. Her voice was shrill, but strong.

Eleanor turned around and glared. "Yes, you will," she replied tersely.

"No, I won't!" Blair shouted. She then turned away before Eleanor could grab her and ran straight up the stairs. She stumbled into her bedroom, clutching her stomach, as tears streamed down her face.

"Oh Lady Blair," Dorota said, clearly pained by her distress. She quickly shut the doors and came over to the bed, which Blair had stumbled onto and buried her face into the pillows.

"I cannot marry him, Dorota! I cannot!" Blair sobbed. She then moved her head into her maid's lap and clutched onto Dorota like a child would. And the maid consoled her as a mother would, as a mother should.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Hampton Court, Surrey_

Chuck watched, from his outdoor throne under the tent, as another man in armor was dragged out of the dirt. He smirked and clapped his hands. It was a beautiful day in England for a jousting tournament.

"His Grace, Nathaniel Archibald, son of Duke Archibald!" the man announced, his voice carrying over the crowd as always.

Nate rode over on his horse, dressed in armor, and upright with pride. He smiled at all the beautiful, and some not beautiful, women who waved and tried to extend their handkerchiefs to him. He passed them all though and stopped his horse before the royal section.

"Your Majesty and your Highness," Nate greeted with a bow. As soon as Bart nodded in approval, he smirked at Chuck. He nodded his head to his friend's side, where Serena sat.

"Go forth, Nathaniel," Chuck encouraged. He felt his father giving him a questioning look from the side, but did not turn to answer. Instead he looked out into the crowd with a smirk and waited for his friend to—well Chuck liked to refer to it as starting the conquest.

Nate turned towards Serena and put on his most charming smile. He bowed to flatter her. "My Lady Van der Woodsen, would you do me the honor or letting me wear your—"

"Yes, of course!" Serena answered with great excitement in her voice. She stood up and tied it on the end of his jousting lance.

Everyone spared a small laugh, including Chuck, at her eagerness.

However Serena and Nate kept locked eyes. She nodded, "Do me well." Then she smiled at him again and returned to her seat.

"Of course, my Lady!" Nate called back to her as he rode off. He then got his horse into position and faced his opponent.

Chuck bit his knuckles as the announcer made clear whom Nathaniel would be facing. No one was better than Nate, not in his level at least, but still he felt nervous. Nate was one of the few people he cared about.

Each jouster took off and rode towards each other at full force. Within seconds, Nate's lance smashed into the other competitor's shield and he was pushed off his horse, crashing to the ground.

The girls all flinched, but Chuck cried out in congratulations. He hit his fist against his throne's arm and then clapped his hand. "Very good, Nathaniel!" he cheered. Every member of Court of course followed his actions instantly as Nate's family crest was hung to show he had won.

The crowd then silenced down as Jack rode up on his horse. He was ready to joust with someone. Lucky for Nate, he wasn't in his class because everyone Jack jousted ended up badly injured and sometimes dead.

"Looks like no man shall step up to joust his Grace, your Majesty," Howard, Duke Archibald and Nathaniel's father, mentioned to Bart in a low voice.

"Only one," Chuck said suddenly. He then stood and got his Uncle's attention, bowing. It was the mark of a challenge. The crowd cheered.

"Chuck, no. What are you doing?" Bart seethed. He tried to grab onto his son, but Chuck had already made his way down the stands and onto the dirt. The king watched with alert eyes as his son hurried over to men waiting with armor and a horse. Then he looked to a now smirking Jack.

"My Lords, the Prince has entered the match!" the announcer called out. He then motioned to Chuck who rode in on his horse with enough pride for all of England. The crowd cheered, some even standing up to commend him.

Bart leaned forward in his throne, his posture going rigid. He looked to Nate who exchanged a tense gaze and then turned to a friend beside him.

"Tell me why this feels unsettling," Nate demanded of Edmund and William. He looked from them back to Jack, and Nate who prepared to joust.

"Because," William sighed, "Not all of the English Court is as loyal as you, Nathaniel." He then lowered his voice. "Even members of the royal family it seems…"

"What is Chuck doing?" Edmund suddenly spoke up. The other two men looked to him in question and he motioned towards the Prince who now held up a ribbon. "He pulled that from his armor. No maiden here gave it to him."

"Good people of England know that this ribbon belonged to my mother—the true and only Queen of England!" Chuck shouted. The crowd roared in cheers, but Chuck only looked directly at his father. He winked with a smirk. Bart was not at all pleased.

Chuck then rode off and pulled down the front of his helmet. He waited for the announcer's call. The crowd fell silent. The horses kicked their feet against the dirt. "Ahh!" he screamed as he charged towards Jack.

But someone else had seen the malicious look in Jack's eyes. "Your Grace!" Nate shouted last minute.

Jack's head turned and so did his lance. It did not hit Chuck, but instead he was knocked clear off his horse and down in the dirt hard. His face smashed into the mud and he tasted the grime on his tongue.

The crowd cheered in approval and Chuck did a victory run on his horse.

Bart clapped, but gave a thankful nod to Nate who returned acknowledgement with a bow. And that was that, for them anyways.

Chuck came back on his horse to where Jack now tried to stand. He took out his handkerchief as a joke and offered. "Uncle, perhaps you'll be in need of this?" he laughed.

Jack glared at him and then snatched it from his hands. He threw it to the ground and stormed off, pushing servants out of the way even.

Chuck's laughter only increased. "Oh come on, Uncle! It was all in good fun!" he called after him. But Jack did not stop. Chuck brushed that off easily though, shaking his head, and returning to the Lords and Ladies who very much loved him.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

The nightly festivities had begun in the great hall at Hampton Court. The king had already retired, but the prince was present. Most preferred it that way. It was much more free. However, above the party Jack looked down. He glared at Chuck as the young prince lived the good life he was so unworthy of.

"Your Grace," the Duke Clouse greeted as he approached Jack. He bowed, even though the other man did not bother to join him, and then stood beside him to look down as well.

Jack was still for a few moments and then snapped. He grabbed the other man by the collar and pushed him up against the wall. "You assured me that the Prince of England would be dead and what do we have? Him alive and well!" Jack seethed.

"Your Grace, it is not my fault the little bastard decided to stay in and plow some Italian whores rather than get in his carriage," the Duke Clouse retorted, pushing Jack off of him. He then shook his head. "Besides, you should not be so verbal in Court about a crime greater than treason."

"No," Jack refuted. "This is my rightful crown, my rightful Court. It does not belong to someone who has no idea how to run it!" He wasn't yelling, but speaking in harsh whispers.

The Duke Clouse straightened himself out, but shook his head. "Well, we both have our own problems then." He looked to Jack. "After all, how would you feel if the King of England was fucking your wife?" he spat.

Jack only laughed at him with a cruel smirk. Everyone knew Lily was the king's mistress, but she was also a married woman. It was a joke; the Duke Clouse was a joke.

"You picked a family of whores. And it looks like your stepdaughter shall join the pack next," Jack mocked. He then motioned down to Serena who was giggling as Nate whispered in her ear. Then he left, calling, "Get it done!"

**XOXOXOXOXO**

"The Duke Clouse," the servant announced as he watched the man step over the threshold and then begin his walk down the hallway.

"Your Grace," a passing man, of lower class, greeted with a small bow. He quickly stepped out of the way of the seemingly upset Duke, not that he wouldn't be upset too, if his wife were the mistress of the King of England.

Richard opened his families' chambers, but paused immediately upon arrival. He frowned at the sound of heavy breathing and clashing bodies. To any man of experience, it was the obvious sound of a man penetrating a woman.

Slowly, he rounded the curtain. And the moment his eyes landed on the sight before him, he froze.

His stepdaughter, Serena, was bent over on the bed. She held tightly onto the sheets as she moaned in pure delight. Nathaniel, or Duke Archibald, stood over her as he thrust his hips back and forth. He infiltrated her again and again in swift, but forceful movements from behind.

"What the hell is going on here?" the Duke Clouse asked. His eyes widened and he took another step towards the now finishing couple.

Nate looked up at him with a self-satisfied grin. He nodded, "It is exactly what it looks like, your Grace. Surely you know, considering your wife knows the position all too well… but in his majesty's bed."

Serena glanced up between the men; happy they did not look to her. Then she quickly crawled across the bed and hurried to put her clothes on.

Richard took another, dangerous step towards Nate. He glared and shook his head in anger. "You little bastard, how dare you? First you violate my daughter in my home and then move next to insult me?" he seethed.

"Firstly, your Grace," Nate drawled mockingly, "I am no bastard. You must have me confused with the future child your wife is likely to produce by the King. And as for means of violation, I can honestly tell you she not only wanted it, but begged." He then chuckled and winked at the man across from him.

"Silence!" Duke Clouse screamed. He then raised his sword to Nate's neck, pushing the blade against the skin, but not yet cutting. "You took her honor," he accused in the lowest of voices.

"I assure you someone was there before me," Nate returned, looking to Serena. He then turned back and bent down as the other man continued to move his sword forward. Nate was lucky to be so flexible.

"I should kill you for this," Richard retorted. He gripped his sword tighter and his eyes narrowed even more.

Serena looked up then. Her smile fell and worry filled her features. "No—no, he is right. He took nothing," she spoke up.

Nate looked to her with a smirk, but then back up to the other man. "See, even your own step-daughter speaks to uphold my honor," he taunted.

"You have no honor. Now get out!" Duke Clouse shouted. He then pulled up his sword, but kept a firm hold in it as means of a threat.

Nate got up from the bed, completely nude, and without shame. He pulled on only his pants and then opened the door. There he saw the high servant, Daniel Humphrey, waiting for him. He chuckled to show pride for what he had done.

"Come Daniel," Nate called, patting him on the back, and then continuing down the hallway to take his leave.

Dan stared in though, eyes hooked on Serena. She looked right back at him. When he heard Nate shout once more, he bowed his head to her and hurried away. It was a strange encounter for both of them. And it ended with the closing of a door.

Serena then crossed her arms and turned to see her stepfather now glaring at her. She took a step away from him when he raised his sword. "I—I am not your daughter. You should feel no shame," she informed him.

"You're right. No true daughter of mine would have done this. You are nothing, but a whore—a whore just like your mother," Richard spat. He then backhanded her across the mouth as hard as he could.

Serena grabbed her bloodied mouth and quickly turned away from him. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited until she heard him leave. Then she released a rather loud cry of pain.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

"Your highness," the servant greeted and bowed as the other opened the door.

"Leave me alone," Chuck returned bluntly and breezed past them. He came into the empty meeting room and sat down at the end of the table. Once the doors were closed, he pulled a candlestick towards him for more light.

He ran his fingertips along the inner edge of his coat until he found the pocket. Then carefully he removed a most cherished item and placed it in the palm of his hand, bringing it closer to his face. It was an old, gold locket, encrusted with rubies on the front of it.

"Mother," Chuck breathed as he opened it. He stared down solemnly and longingly at one of the very few portraits he had left of the Late Queen. His own demons caused his heart to hang heavy with guilt. How could his father do this to her? How could he even try and replace her?

The doors suddenly opened and Chuck jumped. He was about to scream at the servants for being interrupted, but then saw who it was. Quickly, he stuffed the locket back into his pocket and stood.

"The King of England," the servant announced before closing the door.

"Father," Chuck acknowledged, bowing his head. He then sighed and sat down. "What is it you want with me, your Majesty? Shall I be punished for the stunt I pulled at our royal jousting games?" he asked.

Bart looked at Chuck for a few moments and then came over to him. He was about to put his hands on his shoulders, but then stopped and turned away. He shook his head. "Charles, this marriage is purely to secure a better Kingdom for when you reign," he explained, but with very little feeling. His exterior was cold and his voice somber as usual.

Chuck scoffed, "Please your Majesty, you owe me no explanation. You made that very clear when I arrived, back from the dead, not that you cared then either." He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. The classic Prince Charles attitude had returned as well, disrespectful as it was.

His father turned around and looked to him, brow furrowed. He came towards Chuck and took hold of his shoulders. "That is not true," Bart refused.

"Then tell me this, Father. Why do you treat me like you want me dead, cold in the ground just like your poor wife who died giving birth to me? Or is it with this new wife that you hope to forget about us both entirely?" Chuck questioned, putting a hand to his chest.

A sense of emotion came about in Bart's icy blue eyes. But then he pulled away from Chuck, looking pained. He refused to meet his son's eyes. "I could never forget about her…or you. I honor her each day by making sure her heir, my son, you, is alive and well," Bart told him.

Chuck stared into the wick, burning on the tip of the candle. He shook his head. "Only alive, father," he breathed. He knew Bart didn't hear him and Chuck didn't want him to.

"Well," Bart sighed, "I shall leave you to your will then." He started to remove himself from the room when the doors opened. Both he and Chuck looked to the servant in question. "What is it?" he asked.

"Your Majesty," the servant bowed, "the Duke Clouse insists upon an audience."

"Very well," Bart agreed. He then sat down, looking over to his son who rolled his eyes. He would never admit it aloud, but he felt quite the same. Still, he tried to appear attentive as the other man entered the room.

"Your Grace," Bart called out, locking eyes with Clouse.

The Duke Clouse rudely did not bow, but just entered and spoke. "Your Majesty, should be made aware that I have discovered the Duke Nathaniel Archibald in a most indecent state with my stepdaughter in her chambers," he informed the other man with a seething tone.

Chuck looked to both the Duke and his father from the corner of his eye. He then bit his knuckles and leaned back in his chair. He did not like where this conversation was going.

"He has brought shame to my family. I demand that your Majesty banish him from this court, along with any other punishment your Majesty deems fit," the Duke Clouse spat.

"There will be no punishment!" Chuck interrupted. He stood and banged his hands on the table, glaring at the other man. "Unless your stepdaughter accuses Nathaniel of rape! And does she so claim?" he questioned.

The Duke Clouse stared at Chuck and looked to Bart, but the king only turned away.

Chuck did not like being ignored, "Does your stepdaughter so claim that Nathaniel raped her? Answer me!" he bellowed.

"She doesn't need to! The offense is against me and against my family!" Clouse shouted back, banging a fist to his chest.

The prince scoffed in a mocking manner and shook his head. "Well as far as I know and see now, there has been no offense. Therefore is no need for any punishment," Chuck told him.

The Duke Clouse shook his head and moved towards Bart. "I request that his Majesty answer to these matters instead," he informed them, speaking over the prince.

"How dare you!" Chuck shouted. His dark eyes lit with a fire as the anger burned in his belly.

"Son," Bart said. He shook his head at Chuck and held up his hand. Then he turned back to face the duke. "Duke Clouse, you are out of order. My son, the Prince of England, is perfectly fit to rule on this matter. Apologize," he ordered.

The Duke Clouse had reached his boiling point. He scoffed, "I shall do nothing of the sort for an unruly prince or his affair having father of a king." It was a jab made directly at Bart for having an affair with his wife, Lily.

"You have just stepped over the line! Arrest him!" Chuck ordered. Immediately the servants came in and towards the duke.

"No!" Lily screamed, running into the room. She had been outside. She fell to her knees before Bart and shook her head. "He did not mean it, your Majesty."

Bart looked at Lily, to Chuck, the duke, and last the waiting servants. "Take him only to his chambers—" he started to order, but was interrupted.

"Correct me if I am wrong, your Majesty. But did you not say I had right to rule over this matter? Shall I not be King and make such decisions one day?" Chuck asked loudly, his hand forming a fist.

Bart stared at Chuck, deep into his eyes. He then looked away and spoke some sadly for Lily. "Take him to the tower of London and place him under arrest," he commanded, but his voice sounded hoarse.

The Duke Clouse instantly cried out in anger, but was dragged hastily from the room. The doors slammed shut.

Lily stood and smacked Bart in the chest. "How can you do this? How can you leave me with nothing? I have done everything for you!" she screamed in a shrill, panicked voice. Tears formed in her angry eyes.

Bart pulled away from her. He shook his head. "Not nothing. You shall return to the country, reside with your true family before the arrival of our coming new queen," he informed her. He didn't want to, but it wasn't right to keep his mistress when a new wife was arriving.

Lily's entire expression changed from anger to devastation. She cried out and dropped to her knees, touching his feet. "No! No please! Your Majesty, I beseech you to reconsider!" she pleaded.

"There shall be no reconsidering. You must know I am deeply sorry for the misfortunate that has befallen you. Excuse me," Bart dismissed, though looking tortured. He then fled from the room as quick as he could, away from the tragic woman on the ground, his former mistress.

Chuck looked down at Lily with some pity. He had never hated her, really. But he was used to it. So he shook his head and left without another word.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Serena sat on her bed in her dimly lit chambers. She used one hand to hold a mirror as the other reached up to touch her cut and bruised face. Her stepfather's ring had done the most damage to the left side of her nose. She grimaced at the sight. He had ruined her beautiful face.

"Look at you."

She gasped and dropped the mirror, looking to the door. Her eyes widened for a moment, but quickly returned to normal. Still she sort of froze, reaming silent.

Nate smirked as he shut the door behind him. He then slowly walked towards the bed, kneeled down onto it, and crawled to where she sat. His hands reached up and he gently took her face in them.

"It's such a shame—what he's done to your gorgeous, little nose," he consoled, shaking his head. Nate then leaned forth and placed the softest of kisses on her cheek.

Serena closed her eyes and softly smiled. When she felt him pull back, she quickly opened them again and met his eyes.

"Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?" Nate asked. Eyebrows rose and he wore grin that showed just how pleased with himself and his actions he still was.

She giggled, "Right about here." Serena then teasingly lifted her skirt up so that it bundled and revealed her thighs. She smiled when he set his hands upon them and pushed the material up further.

"Yes, I see," Nate rasped. He then rose and pushed his body in between her legs, making her lie down onto the pillows. His body was soon over hers and he kissed her lips feverishly.

"Oh Nate," Serena moaned. She already sounded out of breath and there were a huge bundle of knots twisted within her stomach. His hot skin burned against hers and she felt a shiver down her spine.

Nate leaned back up and reached to undo his belt. He smiled the moment he pulled it off and threw it to the ground. But as he began to tug down his pants the door of the room swung open.

Serena immediately sat up and pulled the covers around her bare chest. She looked to the door with alerted, fearful eyes. But that all went away when she saw it was only her mother. She even felt Nate calm as he sat down on her legs.

"Mother," Serena nodded with a formal tone, despite the very disgraceful position they had been found in. It wasn't like Lily could be one to judge anyways.

Lily looked them up and down and then shook her head. "Gather your things and a servant shall come to pack them. We must leave at once, for the country," she informed her daughter.

Serena's face immediately fell, but then twisted with anger. "No! I will not go!" she protested.

"Well," Lily heaved a sigh; "you have no choice, especially now with the decisions you have made." Her eyes and voice became suddenly critical.

"Decisions like those of my mother's," Serena retorted.

Lily only nodded calmly, accepting the insult. Then she bowed her head. "Think what you like, but you still must pack. Duke Archibald," she acknowledged. Then she turned on her heal and walked through the curtains to her own bedroom.

"I hate her," Serena spat. She shook her head in anger and turned forward again to see Nate was now dressing. She pouted.

He bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then he cupped her chin. "I wish I could find a way for you to stay," Nate told her.

Her face lit up and she grasped onto his shirt. "You could, with a marriage proposal," Serena suggested with great excitement. She then kissed his lips. "I do love you, Nate. I could make you happy."

Nate looked shocked at her reply. He was silent for a moment and then parted his lips to speak, but just as he did, the door opened yet again. The couple turned to see it revealed Chuck.

"Nathaniel, come," Chuck ordered. He appeared tired and anyone who wasn't an idiot knew better than to argue.

"Yes, your Majesty," Nate bowed. He then stood and looked to Serena once more. "I am sorry," he sighed.

Her blue eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. "But—but I love you," Serena cried.

Nate only looked at her in silence and then walked away.

Chuck watched his friend exit, then before leaving himself gave Serena a last look as well. With that he left and hurried to catch up to the speed Nate was walking.

"I shall be sad to see that one go," Nate voiced. His tone told he would not speak of it again.

Chuck merely nodded and replied, "Never get attached to a woman, Nathaniel."

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Paris, France_

Blair watched, hiding behind a tree in one of the royal gardens, as all her belongings were loaded into several carriages. Present at the scene was her disgustingly happy mother. Eleanor was in her element, speaking with both Thomas and his mother Catherine about the upcoming nuptials. Blair felt her stomach turn and looked away from them to the sky. It was a grim day in France, the perfect setting for her heartbreaking departure.

"Lady Blair."

Blair gasped, jumping some, and turned to look behind her. The moment she saw who it was though she smiled and bowed. "Your Majesty, Francois I of France," she greeted properly.

Francois smirked and grabbed onto her hands, pulling her up and close to him. "Ma rose sans épine, à quel point j'en suis amoureux? Au point que je rêverai d'elle jusqu'au jour de ma mort," he proclaimed, his eyes locked on her.

_(English Translation: "My rose without a thorn, how in love am I? So much that I shall dream about her, till the day I die.")_

"You should not say such things, Your Majesty. Anyone from Court could pass by and see you," Blair returned though, a flattered grin held on her lips. She then went to pull away from him, but instead found her back lightly pushed against a tree. She giggled and allowed him to kiss her on the lips.

"Let them see whom I really love. She is so very beautiful that no one could blame me," Francois told her, shaking his head. He then brought a hand to her cheek and caressed it.

She blushed, but looked down and shook her head. "I am sure your wife, the Queen of France, could, your Majesty," Blair said softly.

"Let's not speak of her," he sighed. Then he tipped her chin up so that their eyes met again. Francois frowned and observed, "You have been crying."

"Yes," Blair nodded. She then looked away from him. "And well, I—I have something I must tell you. Even if it breaks both of our hearts."

Francois turned her cheek once more and pecked her lips. "Then tell me, Ma Chérie," he insisted though he didn't seem too troubled.

She pouted her lips and turned up the dramatics. "My mother is marrying me off to an English brute. You must put a stop to it, if you love me!" Blair pleaded, clutching onto his clothes.

Francois stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. "I will do nothing of the sort. I have arranged this marriage for you. Did young Thomas not tell you?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

Blair didn't care to answer that. Instead she pushed his chest. "How dare you betray me like this! You said you loved me!" she yelled. She then tried to move away from him, but he grabbed her and pulled her back.

Francois put a hand over her mouth and narrowed his eyes. "Silence. Someone will take notice to us." He then sighed and removed his hand. His soft exterior returned. "I am doing this for you, Blair," he swore.

She scoffed, "Well I do not want it. Free me of this—this disgraceful arrangement." The way each word rolled off her tongue about it showed more disdain than he had ever expected.

Francois ran a hand through his hair and bit his bottom lip. Then he grabbed onto her arms and looked to her desperately. "Fine. It is done. Just stay here and be my mistress instead. I would give you everything you wanted," he offered. He had backed down, but he didn't care. If he could have her then he would take her—as long as she agreed of course.

Blair pushed him away and shook her head. "How dare you insult me like this. I would now much rather take the other option," she spat. She then shook her head. "You are weak," she insulted.

He grabbed onto her and pushed her back up against the tree once more. "You could make any man weak," Francois seethed. He then kissed her strongly on the lips though she tried to get him off of her.

"Let me be," Blair mumbled against his lips. She then turned her cheek and refused to look at him. "I never want to see you again."

Francois held onto her tighter and shook his head. "Do not say that. Please take it back. You must know that I love you so much, and I would make you a Queen if I could," he whispered, kissing her cheek.

"You can," Blair insisted and turned to look at him. A strange passion came to her eyes, one wanting power, something better, greater than she was by title.

"I am married. I already have a Queen," Francois reminded her.

Blair pulled away from him again and pouted.

He smiled softly and took her face in his hands. "That is why I shall make you a princess instead. Do you not see what an honor I am bestowing on you?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

She turned to look at him with sadness in her eyes. Still she nodded with a sense of respect. "Yes, your Majesty. Thank you," Blair said softly.

"Thomas will make you a good husband. The boy is in love with you, Blair. He will treat you well; perhaps not even take a mistress until the later years of your marriage. I am most certain he will even let you visit me," Francois explained as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His chin rested upon her shoulder.

Blair remained still. She didn't melt into his arms like usual. Instead she was cold and icy, much like her reputation told.

"I will present you to England and to Thomas as the true treasure of France you are. We will show them we have the prettiest beauties in all the world. You are the best gift I can give," Francois continued, sounding proud. "Tu es mon bien le plus précieux." _(English Translation: basically means – "You are my rarest gem.")_

She didn't respond, but just looked forward to her fate. Her eyes landed on Thomas, her mother, and his. They were all blissfully happy. But her heart, it hung heavy with nothing, but sorrow. If only her father were there. He would surely rescue her from all of it. But he wasn't. And she was going to marry into the family that took him away from her, son père bien-aimé. _(English Translation: "her beloved father.")_

Francois waited for her to say something, but when she did not he laughed breathlessly. "Well, will you not say something? Anything Blair," he requested.

She nodded, staring out at her beautiful France. "Oui, ne jamais tomber amoureuse," Blair proclaimed, but in the softest and most broken sounding of voices.

"What?" Francois asked with a frown, having not heard her.

"Never fall in love," Blair repeated, looking up, with much more determination. It was a vow, one she planned to never break, not for anyone.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: So how was Chapter 2? Is the story living up to it's potential. I certainly hope so. Also thank you so much to Rolling09 for being my translator. Lastly, there are pictures for this story (one of Blair from this chapter) that can be found on my Tumblr or my Deviantart. Both links are available on my profile.

Also I need to give a **HUGE **thanks to my beta VanillaLatte086. Seriously, she is the best beta I have ever had and in my opinion the best on FF! So many thanks to her!


	3. The Treasure of France

Chapter Three:

**The Treasure of France**

_Hampton Court, Surrey_

Chuck stood in front of his mirror as a servant to his left fit him for his newest clothes. He was preparing to take leave though he would rather not. It was his duty as the Prince of England to be active in all royal matters, including such a _prestigious_ treaty. However, Chuck found himself more concerned with outdoing, Francois I, King of France, than any political matters. His father may have decided he was high above rivalry, but Chuck was most certainly not. He loathed France by birthright and there came no exception to their ruler, whom was not too much older than he.

"His Grace, Duke Nathaniel Archibald," the servant at the doors announced, beating his staff against the floor. The doors then opened and a path was cleared for him.

Nate came into the room and locked eyes on Chuck. He smiled, slightly amused. His friend was clearly already preparing to make a statement on behalf of England when they met France.

"Nathaniel, come closer. I want your most honest opinion," Chuck called out. His voice held a haughty tone that immediately signified that Nate, although his friend, better answer as he wanted him too.

"Your Highness looks most handsome. I have never seen such fine cloth in this court before. Do tell me where you got them," Nate returned in a teasing manner. He stepped up next to Chuck and met his eyes in the mirror.

Chuck laughed, Nate joining him, and turned to the servant. "You are dismissed. Have this made up before we leave," he ordered.

"Yes, Your Highness," the servant agreed with a bow. He then gathered his things and left to do the prince's bidding.

"What jewels shall you to wear?" Nate asked next. He leaned up against the wall by the mirror since Chuck was still admiring himself.

Chuck turned to view his side and smirked in the most vain of fashions. "Only the best England has to offer, which will and always shall be better than France's. Francois will be blinded with jealousy," he replied.

"Awe, but what if he holds a greater treasure than you?" Nate challenged, just to tease Chuck. He was perhaps the only person on the planet who could.

"There is no greater treasure than my mere presence," Chuck expressed, winking at Nate. He walked over to a servant holding a tray and took the glass of wine from it. "Besides, I have been assured he will have nothing greater to give than I and my father."

"Well I am only honored that his Royal Highness, my best mate, has requested I accompany him on this mission," Nate told him with the upmost gratitude. His father had tried to advise him to stay behind, but like always he went behind all other's backs to Chuck who would give him what he wanted. It had been that way since they were boys.

"Of course. Now, let's eat," Chuck nodded. He then walked into the next room, Nate following, and stopped in front of a table set with the most delicious of food and wine. He plucked some meat from the silver plate and took a seat at the head of the table.

"Have you obtained the information I requested?" he inquired. His eyebrows rose as he waited for an answer and looked to his friend.

"Yes, I sought it from a servant who sits in on all of my father's meetings. And I think you shall quite enjoy what I have to tell you," Nate nodded as he sat down beside the prince.

"Then do tell it, Nathaniel," Chuck encouraged though it came as more of a demand. He leaned back in his seat and took a long drink of wine.

"Your Highness, the King, and the rest of the English Court shall camp at Guines, across from us, Francois and his Court will reside at Ardres. Then we shall meet in the middle in a place called Val d'Or, the Valley of Gold," Nate explained.

"Yes, this I knew. Do get to the point," Chuck interrupted.

Nate smiled, "I was just about to, Your Highness. You see, in the Valley of Gold more than a thousand labors have constructed a palace. It has been named the Palace of Illusions. Those who have seen it are already calling it the eighth wonder of the world. And it was your father who commissioned it in your name, which Francois is very well aware of."

"I suddenly can't wait for the summit," Chuck smirked.

"I thought you would say that. Now if only it were on better, more rewarding terms. I know there is nothing you want from France, but in fact only persons you wish to dispose of," Nate sighed. He reclined back in his chair as well.

Chuck nodded with pursed lips, staring down at his royal ring. It was the Prince of England's ring. There was only one. But that was about to change, along with everything. England would never be the same again after the treaty was signed and his future stepmother and stepbrother were welcomed to court. And for reasons unknown, Chuck suspected he wouldn't be either.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Val d'Or_

_English Occupied France_

The brisk, refreshing air hit Chuck's face at maximum speed as he followed along, horseback, with his father and whomever in the English Court were to attend the _blessed_ treaty signing. He narrowed his eyes, biting down hard on his lower lip, and pushed his body forward. His horse picked up speed and he was once more at his father's side. Others noted his efforts and out of both fear and respect fell back some.

"Halt!" Bart's voice sounded over the powerful wind. His horse came to an abrupt stop at the top of a very steep hill.

Chuck pulled on his reins, forcing his horse to skid into a stop. His body jerked forward, but he caught his balance. A loud breath of relief came from his lips and he turned to see his father who had luckily not been watching, but gazing forward. Naturally, he followed the gaze.

Below the hill they resided on, a good distance off, laid the valley. It was overtaken with sprinkles of blue, red, white, and brown—the tents of French residents. Front and center, rested the Palace of Illusions. In blatant terms, it was nothing short of magnificent.

"Val d'Or," Bart introduced, hand extended out towards the view. He turned towards his son then, actually sparing the smallest of smiles. "The Valley of Gold, Charles."

"It is indeed grand, but what if Francois and the French Royal Court do not show? I see no sign of them anywhere," Chuck returned, kinking his eyebrows. Secretly, he hoped for their absence.

"They'll show, Charles. Only unfortunately like us Englishmen the French have no recognition of common courtesy. Arriving late to such an event to them signifies attention and therefore importance," Jack asserted in a rigid tone. With already pursed lips, he merely rolled his eyes at the sight of the Valley and all it stood for.

Chuck immediately released a hearty laugh, as reflex to such an insult of any other information. When he saw the look on his father's face though, it died much quicker than it was born.

From the Prince's side though, Nate grinned, "Forgive me, Your Highness. It is only that I do not think you are one to poke fun at belated persons."

Jack snorted a chuckle at that, but covered it by bringing his hand to his lips and pretending to cough.

"Ah Nathaniel, your wit—or rather lack of it has always been so amusing to me," Chuck returned with a sarcastic smirk.

"The French have arrived. Just look beyond the opposite side of the valley, up on the second hill," Bart announced, pointing to his spoken directions. He then gripped his reins once more, ready to move things along.

"What's the plan, Your Majesty? Who shall go first?" Chuck asked, looking to his father. He figured since they were providing accommodations that it was only natural they would.

"No one, Charles. I am to ride down alone and meet with King Francois in the middle. From there, the rest of each company can join us," Bart informed him, meeting his eyes.

Chuck shook his head. "You mean I am not to go with you? I am the Prince of England. Francois is only a few years older than I?" he questioned through means of protest.

"You are the Prince, but I am the King, Charles. We cannot risk insulting Francois by introducing someone of lower rank at first meeting if he does not do so as well. You will stay here and ride down with the rest of our Court," Bart replied. He turned forward again and nodded his head in a serious fashion.

"Someone of lower rank? I have higher rank than his whole God damn country! You are letting him outwardly insult me!" Chuck spat. His nostrils flared and the anger built in the pit of his stomach.

"No, I am letting him give you a lesson in humility, which by this tyrant you have proved to be in need of. Now, you and no one else will move from this spot on pain of death. Do I make myself clear?" Bart asked. His volume did not raise, but the strength in it did.

Chuck scoffed, "Yes, we do. And with that I have only one more objection." He waited until his father reluctantly nodded for him to continue. "What if they have means to assassinate you, Your Majesty?"

Bart turned towards him and smiled condescendingly. "Then I shall be happy to know my heir waited up here, as instructed. After all, he is so close in age to the King of France. A fine match of rivals if I do say so myself."

Several men began to laugh, among them Jack and Nate the loudest, as Bart bowed to his son and rode forward. Chuck, on the other hand, had tightened his grip on his reins to such a degree that his palms became red.

"Relax Chuck, one day you shall be King. Then you may do as you wish," Nate sighed, addressing him less formally now that Bart was gone. He patted his friend on the back.

"If the King does not allow France to claim England first with matters of _peace_," Jack added disdainfully. He glared down at the sight of his elder brother and the King of France now across from each other, greeting in harmony.

Chuck was doing the same thing until he heard Jack. He turned, frowning as if taken off guard, and stared at his uncle for a moment. Could there be any truth to his words? Surely, Chuck did not like the French or agree with his father's methods, but Bart had also taken so much time in perfecting the legacy on which he would bestow to Chuck. To lose it all in the end to the bloody French would be hell on earth.

"They're riding in, side-by-side. We may go forth now," Nate spoke up, breaking the Prince's inner thoughts.

Dropping back into reality, Chuck looked forward once more and saw what his friend proclaimed to be true. He grinded his teeth in slight pause and then kicked his feet against the sides of his horse. It drove onwards, taking him to the Palace of Illusions.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck sighed with great irritation as the trumpets sounded with full blast. Slowly, he stepped onto the beginning of the grass aisle. He saw his father and King Francois seated at a grand table down at the end of it. Gathered all around were the members of the English Court on one side, and the French Court on the other.

He was just about to make his introduction when he felt someone tug on the leg of his pants. His eyes dropped down, body slightly turned, and he saw a young boy wearing a crown.

The boy smiled at him and bowed. "Prince Charles, I am the Dauphin of France—Prince Philippe," he introduced, putting a hand to his chest.

Chuck looked around, immediately to his father. He gave Bart a look that read _you cannot be serious_. His father only returned a stern one though that clearly stated _I am._ He scoffed, glancing at Prince Philippe once more. Chuck was the Prince of England and they were introducing him with a mere child.

"Will you not tell me your name? Or do you not know how to speak? I speak perfect French and English," Prince Philippe informed him. He actually managed to turn his nose up at the man beside him.

"Moi aussi, Prince Philippe. Je préfère juste ne pas le faire," Chuck returned with an arrogant smirk. He then too put a hand to his chest. "I am Prince Charles, the true and only Prince of England, Ireland, and—believe it or not—some of your precious France." He winked at him and stood back up, the grin stretched across his face far more grand than before.

"Bloody brat," he muttered under his breath.

They then walked in union down the way and stopped in front of their fathers. Chuck's eyes immediately met with Francois's though. He knew right away that the King of France was well aware with how displeased the Prince of England truly was.

"King Bartholomew, may I introduce my son, the Dauphin of France, Prince Henry Philippe," Francois introduced, motioning between the King of England and his son.

"Your Majesty," Prince Philippe said with a bow.

"Your Highness, what a pleasure," Bart smiled, bowing his own head. He turned to the King of France. "And King Francois, may I introduce my son, Prince Charles of England." He extended his hand between the two men of near age.

"Cousin," Chuck said simply. He bowed his head and motioned towards Francois. His voice was not condescending, but short.

Francois paused for a moment, but alas nodded. "Cousin," he returned, much slower, and with a knowing smile. He knew that Chuck had not meant to intimately address him, but in fact insult him. However, he refused to let it get to him.

"Prince Charles and Prince Philippe, will you please each take a seat by your father's, Their Majesty's, so we can begin the ceremony?" Cardinal Wolsey asked, stepping in before things got carried away. He was well aware and equipped to deal with Chuck's antics.

"Of course," Chuck returned. He and Philippe both bowed once more and then sat on opposite sides of the table, both directly next to their father's.

The trumpets sounded again and the Royal Announcer of the English Court stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Hear ye! Hear ye! I Bartholomew, by the grace of God King of England, Ireland, and France do hereby—"

"Stop," Bart called out suddenly. He looked out on the now anxious crowd, but only smiled. "During this summit, I am only Bartholomew, King of England and Ireland."

Chuck's hand tightened around the arm of his chair and his toes curled. Of all places his father had to choose now to be charitable. Never when Chuck had misspoken or sinned, but for Francois—of course. It took all he had not to roll his eyes and spit on the French dirt.

The crowd applauded, both the English and the French. Bart turned to meet Francois's eyes and bowed his head. He had to makeup for Chuck's jab at the King of France in some form or another and it had been the perfect opportunity.

Francois gazed back out upon the crowd. "And I am just Francois, King of France and Burgundy," he told them. The crowd applauded in union, yet again.

"Your Majesties, may I ask you both to place your hands on the Holy Bible and swear before God, these princes, and lords here gathered, that you will be true, virtuous, and loving to each other?" Cardinal Wolsey asked as he stepped before both Kings, holding the Good Book in front of them.

They both set their hands on the Bible in union.

Bart made sure to have eye contact with Francois and said, "I so swear."

"Moi aussi. I swear too," Francois vowed.

Bart and Francois then rose from their seats together. They stood still, firm, and serious. A chorus of French and English members was conducted in a song of beautiful harmony.

"I ask his gracious Majesty, the King of England, to sign in good faith the Treaty of Universal and Perpetual Peace," Cardinal Wolsey declared to the crowd. He motioned down to the legal papers.

Francois gave a small smile and then signed his name in red, permanent ink. When he rose, is eye's found Chuck's. He smirked contemptuously at the Prince of England.

Chuck returned the tightest of smiles. He told himself he couldn't wait till he was King of England, if only to break the treaty with that arrogant, son of a…

"And now I ask his gracious Majesty, the King of England, to also sign in good faith the Treaty of Universal and Perpetual Peace," Cardinal Wolsey proclaimed. He stepped back and made room for Bart.

The King of England bent down, signed his name, and rose. He turned to the King of France, they shook hands, and the treaty was stamped. Everyone applauded. It was done.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

"How does Chuck address the King of France? He merely says, Cousin," Nate reenacted before he and the rest of the men around him burst into the loudest of laughter.

"Let us not forget he called Prince Philippe, the Dauphin of France, a bloody brat was it? I was standing near, but you were muttering, Your Highness," William added, looking to the Prince with a smile.

Chuck, who walked between all of them, rolled his eyes and chuckled. "If I were King, we would not be here, but at war with France," he looked around with distaste and continued, "the bloody bastards."

"France can not be all bad. Your stepmother is not unfortunate looking and her soon, soon to be your brother, was… polite," Nate sighed, nodding his head.

"He was boring, dreadful. I shall never call him my brother or share my crown with him. As for her, I only shall pray with gratitude tonight to our father in Heaven that she is too old to have anymore brats," Chuck retorted. He folded his hands behind his back and sighed.

"Well, is there anything you like about France, Your Highness?" Edmund inquired, hurrying to join the rest of the young men and the Prince.

"Nothing yet, Edmund. I'll admit I have seen a few French maidens I would not mind fucking, but nothing special," Chuck told them, lowering his voice. They all roared in laughter once more.

Once they quieted, William looked up at the Castle they walked alongside and squinted his eyes. "I still do not know why it is called the Palace of Illusions," he admitted.

Chuck smirked to himself and went forth. He lifted up one of the walls. "Because William, it is only painted canvas. Magnificent, is it not?" he asked, eyebrows raising.

"It was built in his Highness's name," Nate advised, nudging the other boy.

William smiled, "Of course. I am stunned by it, Your Highness." He knew, like the other boys, that if he wanted to keep his position it required kissing the royal ass every once in a while.

"Very good," Chuck returned. "Now, let us—"

"Your Highness!" Thomas Gray called, running towards them at full speed. He had just been introduced to the Prince of England, his future brother, and was supposed to accompany him around.

"He found us," Chuck muttered, rolling his eyes. He turned though, just as the other man skidded to a stop before him and bowed, out of breath.

"Your Highness, forgive me. I somehow got lost from you," Thomas told him. He smiled eagerly. "I am so happy to have found you again though, just in time for us to go inside."

"Yes, how thankful I am that Your Lordship did so," Chuck replied with the most sarcastic of tones. He turned and sighed, starting inside. "Follow me."

Nate winked at Thomas, grin smug as well, and went ahead of Thomas to be at Chuck's side—like always.

Thomas's face fell some, but he soon found himself between William and Edmund. He smiled at both of them, but lowered is voice. "Since you are close with the Prince I must admit I fear he has not taken to me," he said shyly.

William exchanged an amused look with Edmund. Then he put his arm around Thomas's shoulder and chuckled. "Fear not, my Lord. I assure you the Prince is well on his way to brotherly love for you."

"In fact, he swears to it," Edmund added before both men broke out in yet another round of chuckles. Thomas did not understand.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

The thrones positioned behind the Royal tables, separating France and England. King Bartholomew had opted to take a seat further down the line to sit with his now fiancée Catherine Gray, the Duchess of Somerset. He allowed for Prince Charles to sit the closest to King Francois. Then on Chuck's other side was the soon-to-be Prince, Thomas Gray.

Francois rose from his seat and the crowd silenced. He smiled, turning to both Chuck and Thomas. "And now, I would like to present two very precious gifts to Prince Charles and Lord Thomas Gray, Earl of Essex," he announced.

Chuck watched as a French servant came towards him, holding a jewel-incrusted box. It was set down on the table before him. The Prince looked to the King of France.

"You first, _Cousin_," Francois insisted, bowing his head.

Putting his hands on the box, Chuck stood and looked it over for a few moments. He opened it and inside some of the finest jewels he had ever seen lied against red velvet. He inhaled a sharp breath. They made the ones he was wearing look like they belonged on a peasant.

The crowd applauded and several members also whispered about the beauty of them.

Chuck looked back to Francois with a tight smile. He reluctantly bowed his head. "Cousin, you embarrass me. I have nothing for you," he admitted in the lowest of voices.

Francois smirked, "I assure you it was never my intention. In fact, forgive me, but you may be insulted when you see his Lordship Thomas's gift." He then motioned out to the crowd.

The crowd silenced as an ancient, hypnotizing music began to play. Several candles were blown out and the room darkened, but the center aisle took on a radiating glow.

Chuck frowned, sitting forward some in his seat. He saw four men enter the room, carrying an Egyptian styled bed. It was draped in a golden canopy, but as it came closer he could see the shadow of a feminine figure.

All the men in the room seemed to take awareness to what was happening the exact moment Chuck did. Not a masculine pair of eyes in the room roamed anywhere else.

The men set the bed easily down onto the ground.

Francois smiled and walked down the steps to it. He took a small peak through the draping, just to tease everyone, and then looked to Thomas.

"Come forth, my Lord," Francois beckoned.

Chuck immediately turned to look at his future stepbrother. His jaw tightened and his brow furrowed. Why was he receiving a gift like this? Thomas wasn't even the true Prince of England. He was. Thomas probably hadn't even been with a woman before. Chuck had been with many. He glared at Francois that French ass.

Thomas rose from his seat. He was finding it hard to breathe and his palms were drenched in sweat. He wiped them furiously against his pants as he stood before the bed. He knew who was inside, but that didn't stop his heart from beating out of his chest.

"May I present you with your gift, le véritable trésor de France," Francois announced. He stuck his hand inside and felt Blair grasp on. Then he gently pulled her out to stand beside him.

(_English Translation: "the true treasure of France")_

Chuck gasped the moment he saw her. He wasn't sure what happened to him, but he was sure he had never seen someone more beautiful than whoever she was—French or not. Her petite stature embodied a natural ladylike grace. But from there, she was mysterious. Her skin was the color of ivory, seemingly untouched by the sun's rays. Her hair was dark, darker than any girl's he had seen before, and it cascaded down her back in a way most women didn't dare. The long curls brought a spotlight to her face. Her lips stood out, a natural ruby red and her dark eyes looked out through the thickest of lashes. A man couldn't help, but be drawn to her. She was mystifying.

Thomas bowed, releasing a large and obviously strained breath.

Blair looked him up and down briefly, doing her best not to purse her lips. As before, she was anything, but impressed. When she felt Francois squeeze her arm, she reluctantly bowed before Thomas.

"La belle Blair, votre fiancée," Francois furthered with a proud grin. He then guided the hand of Blair's he held towards Thomas.

_(English Translation: "The beauty Blair, your fiancée")_

Chuck nearly choked on the air he breathed. His fiancée? That imbecile was getting the treasure of France as his fiancée? He found himself ready to bare his teeth he was so angry over the matter.

"Lady Blair," Thomas breathed. He took her hand and kissed it, bowing once more. Then he moved closer than he had ever been to her. His body felt like it had been set on fire when her warmth transmitted onto him.

"My Lord Thomas," Blair returned, sparing him the smallest of smiles.

A strange feeling sparked and fluttered in the pit of Chuck's stomach. The room was dead silent and she had finally spoken. Her voice had not disappointed, but teased him all the more. He wanted her to say something else. He craved to order that idiot Thomas to shut up and command the Lady Blair speak instead.

Francois laughed, "Well do not be shy, boy. This is France. You may greet her the way we show love here. She will be your wife after all."

Blair's eyes widened and she turned to glare at Francois. She could not believe he had just suggested, no—he had encouraged that English chump to kiss her. She quickly accepted it though when Francois shook his head and disapproval and warned her to behave with his eyes.

Chuck almost stood up. Had she just glared at the suggestion of Thomas kissing her? Did she not want him to kiss her? No, he was just hoping it. But since when did the Prince of England have to hope for anything? Still, it would be too good to be true, right?

Thomas nodded and swallowed a lump in his throat. He took small steps towards Blair, careful not to stumble. Then he closed his eyes and moved forward to kiss her.

Blair was all about ready to vomit. Sure he was not disagreeable in looks, but he was English. She was thinking about running for it when she felt a pair of dark eyes burning into the side of her face. It was strange because she never felt such an intense gaze upon her before. Rather than meet Thomas's lips, she turned and felt them crash into her cheek. But that was barely noticeable when she locked eyes with another.

Chuck thought for a moment he had died. She was looking directly at him, into his eyes. There was no denying it. She had turned, to avoid meeting Thomas's lips and met his eyes instead. He parted his lips as if to say something, but then realized she would not hear him.

A breath came from Blair's lips and she felt her heart tighten. She stared into eyes as dark as night. A chill ran down her spine and she shivered. But whom did these moonless pools of passion belong to? She concentrated on his other facial features, hoping to recognize him. His skin was like marble, and his face sculpted. His jaw was prominent and it led to very defined cheekbones. A prominent brow rested upon his eyes though, those captivating, but terrifying eyes.

"Have I insulted you, Lady Blair? Please forgive me," Thomas whispered frantically into her ear. She wasn't looking at him and he feared that he had insulted her.

Those stupid words broke Blair's concentration and she turned to look at Thomas. She shook her head. "No, your Lordship. You must forgive me. I am not so used to everyone looking at me," she told him in a low voice.

Francois laughed, "A woman can never be so honest when she is flattered." He then winked at Thomas and raised his hands to the crowd. They all began to applaud for what had taken place.

Everyone clapped—well, everyone but Chuck. The moment Blair had looked away from him and back to Thomas he had never felt so insulted. How dare she apologize to someone of lower rank when he clearly wanted her attention? He scoffed and shook his head.

Bart rose from his seat and made his way down the staircase. He bowed to Blair, Thomas, and Francois. "What a generous gift, giving one of your beauties to my country and future son," he complimented.

"Your Majesty," Blair bowed. She looked up again to meet icy, but strangely not fierce blue eyes. She had expected for the King of England to be a monster, the man she blamed for her father's death, but he wasn't.

"Lady Blair," Bart returned. He then took a hand to her cheek, causing a few gasps from the English court. Their King wasn't exactly the intimate type.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" she asked. She was finding it harder and harder for him to be the cause of her father's death. Perhaps he wasn't. She knew it was someone in the English Royal family, but if not the King than who? Plus, didn't he have final order?

"Child, you just look so familiar is all. Have you ever been to my court?" Bart asked, eyebrows rising in question. There was something familiar about her that he could not place.

"I have not, your Majesty. _Regretfully_, my mother and I have only been able to travel to Italy, but otherwise remain in France since my father's death," Blair told him. She knew it could be a mistake and insult to bring it up, but she didn't care. She did what she wanted and spoke what she thought for the most part. It was her greatest strength and weakness.

"Your father?" Bart frowned and turned to Francois. "Who is the Lady Blair's father, your Majesty? Did perhaps he travel to France?" he requested.

Francois bit his bottom lip and looked around. He knew he should have told Blair not to bring the subject up, but had feared if he did then she definitely would. He moved closer and lowered his voice. "Lady Blair's late father was Duke Harold Waldorf. He made several trips to your Court," he revealed. He had wanted to add an, 'as you know', but decided against it. They had just sworn a peace treaty after all.

Bart suddenly turned very still. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then he regained his dignity and turned back to Blair. Of course she was Harold's daughter. She had his natural charm and wit. In only a few minutes into their meeting she had also shown that she could enact guilt on even a King, as Harold had always been able to do.

"Is there something wrong, Your Majesty?" Blair asked. Her voice was soft, but also torturing. She could see the conflict in his eyes, but did not yield to it. Instead, she welcomed it.

"Not at all, Lady Blair. I am just happy to hear that my future son has a gem of France to take back to my kingdom," Bart replied, bowing his head once more. He motioned back. "Will you please greet my future Queen, the Duchess Catherine Gray?"

Catherine stepped forward, positioning herself beside Bart. She bowed her head to her son's fiancée. "Lady Blair," she greeted.

"Your Grace," Blair rejoined, bowing her head also. She could tell though that she would not like the woman and in truth, the woman already disliked her. That caused a smirk to come to Blair's lips and she leaned onto Thomas, looping their arms. When Catherine's smile tightened, Blair only giggled at the win. Her glee was soon interrupted though when an arrogant sounding voice joined.

"Will I not have my own introduction to the Lady, _Cousin_?" Chuck inquired, stepping forth. He ignored Thomas completely.

Blair's eyes widened when she realized whom the voice belonged to. It belonged to_ him_, but _he_ was the Prince of England. Her jaw almost dropped in astonishment.

Francois faked a laugh. "_Cousin_, I say with the upmost sorrow she is no longer mine to introduce. Why not ask your brother, Lord Thomas?" he suggested.

"Not my brother yet," Chuck said loudly. He then turned, acting as if Thomas did not exist. He took Blair's hand in his and bowed his head, kissing it. "My Lady Blair, what a pleasure," he smirked.

Blair pulled back her hand as if he had burned her. The feel of his lips against her skin—she would not go there. She merely bowed, "Your Highness."

Chuck's mouth did fall agape. He could not believe what had just happened. Had she no interest in him? Was she not attracted to him? He felt so angry and frustrated with how she brushed him off. Yet, he was also intrigued.

"Forgive the Prince. He cannot seem to remember his manners when before a lovely lady," Bart remarked. He laughed to everyone, but Chuck—whom he glared warningly at.

"May I go and dance, Your Majesty?" Blair asked, looking to Francois. She cut into all the unnatural laugh of the group. She was blunt and impatient.

"Lady Blair, as much as you enjoy the lively atmosphere perhaps you should remember to ask permission of your future husband, but first get to know him more," Francois reminded, stressing his voice.

Blair pursed her lips in response.

"Of course you may go, Lady Blair. We have much time to speak later," Thomas intervened. He did not want to deny her of anything. He knew his words were shaky and uneven, but he couldn't help himself.

She smirked; realizing things would be easier than she thought. Her hand touched Thomas's cheek and she met his eyes. "Thank you, my Lord," Blair acknowledged. She bowed to everyone and turned to leave, but found that she almost ran into someone. She looked up and met _those_ eyes again.

Chuck smirked, "Shall you honor me with a dance, Lady Blair?" His hand extended out. His voice was in no way humbling though, but in fact almost demanding. He wasn't actually asking a question at all.

Thomas felt his heart sink. How could he be so stupid? He should have asked her for the first dance, but then again he had two left feet.

Bart saw the look in his son's eyes. He felt a heavy weight descend onto his shoulders. When they were alone, Charles needed to be informed of a few things he was perhaps not used to hearing.

Francois and Catherine wore matching glares towards the Prince. They were each thinking, 'How dare he?'.

Blair glanced down at Chuck's hand and back to his eyes. "Forgive me, your Highness. However, I am accustomed to dancing alone in France. I find it invigorating," she declined.

Catherine gasped, putting a hand to her chest. Even though she had not approved of the invitation, Blair was still required to accept. Charles was the Prince of England after all.

Bart and Francois chuckled though. They were amused with the situation, but more so the look on Chuck's face.

Chuck's eyes narrowed and he grabbed onto Blair's hand. He moved himself forward, very close to her. "Well, then let me show you how we do it in England. After all, that is where you shall now live," he seethed.

"Ye—yes, Your Highness," Blair trembled. She closed her eyes and opened them to find him leading her towards the dance floor. His hold on her was still tight though, harsh even. She was shaken in a way, but why? It was then she realized he was the first man who had refused to accept the defeat she delivered to him. It irritated, but also fascinated her.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck yanked Blair into the center of the dance floor and forced her to stand before him. His hands grabbed onto her arms and ran down them to rest on her wrists. Their faces were mere inches apart, eyes locked.

He smirked, "Do you know _Como Poden Per Sas Culpas_, Lady Blair?" He threw her a challenging glance. It was a test, not only in her knowledge of music, but also of her reaction.

"A Volta?" Blair asked. She looked around to make sure no one was listening and turned back to him. She shook her head and lowered her voice. "Your Highness, something composed in honor of the Virgin Mary by King Alfonso X of Spain is not appropriate for us to dance to," she professed.

He let go of one of her wrists and allowed his hand to slide around her waist, to rest on her lower back. He tugged her forward, liking how control seemed to be slipping away from her the closer they got.

"Consider it a compliment. Though when you see how I dance to it, you may find it less holy of a tune," Chuck whispered. It took all he had not to kiss her neck, while under her dark curls.

Blair closed her eyes and gripped onto his shoulders. She felt his hot breath hit her neck and his words tickle her ear. So when he abruptly pulled away from her, she almost lunged forward to grab back onto him. Luckily though, her eyes opened and she restrained herself. She watched as he pulled back and raised his hand to the crowd.

"Play the Volta," Chuck ordered to one of his English violinist. Everyone in the room fell dead silent, but he only thrived off the attention. He grinned at Blair in a sinister fashion and positioned himself a few steps away from her.

The music started and Blair looked around, at first panicked. When she returned to Chuck's gaze though, she found herself calmed. She realized what he was doing. It wasn't to embarrass her, but to dare her. Well, that changed everything.

Blair smirked at Chuck and whirled around him with natural footsteps. She relished at the fact that he had no idea what he was in for. Prestigiously, she stepped before him again. By the look on his face, she already knew he was more impressed than he had anticipated he would be.

Chuck backed up and bowed in the most dramatic fashion he knew he had ever done before. He watched as she did the same, but in means to tease him. She gave him a clear view of her cleavage. He licked his lips at the sight and reached his hand up as if to touch them.

She caught on though, knowing exactly what she was doing, and smacked her hand up to grab onto his arm. She held it in place for a moment, opening her mouth to release a loud breath. Soon she let go of his arm though and twirled around him once more, grasping her dress to make the fabric liquefy like always. When she came around him, she made sure her body lightly hit against his.

He stood his ground though. Chuck refused to give her the pleasure of seeing him stumble forward. He was not a boy she could play with, push around—and she would soon see that.

Blair came towards him, but suddenly found him coming towards her. She put up her hands to take his, but instead he grabbed both of her wrists. He pushed her forward, taking the lead.

"Vous êtes une danseuse passionnée, Lady Blair," Chuck complimented. His eyes stared with intent into hers and his voice deepened, developing a desirable husky tone. He turned them and switched the push, to pulling her across the dance floor.

_(English Translation: "You are a passionate dancer, Lady Blair")_

She felt his hands release her wrists, but felt them then grasp her waist. She gasped, taken off guard. Quickly, she relaxed herself. On hand held onto his shoulder as the other wrapped around his neck.

"As are you, Prince Charles," Blair whispered into his ear. She smirked, throwing her head back as he spun them both around. A thrilling laugh came from her lips to show not only her enjoyment, but keep his intimacy with her at bay.

Her laugh blinded him for a moment, but he was quick to discover what she had really done. He yanked her down roughly and pushed her back, but instead of letting her fall grabbed onto her hand. He yanked her to his body again.

"I prefer Chuck, Blair," he informed her before throwing her out again. He spun her again, but held on tight not to let her fly into the crowd gathered around them. With a full turn complete, he jerked her back again.

Blair's back hit his front. She released a trembling breath as his hands positioned themselves on his waist. She couldn't see, but felt his movements, taking steps forward and back in union with him.

She smirked, "I prefer Lady Blair, Prince Chuck." She knew she had struck a nerve when he turned her back around. His eyes burned into hers as he dragged her across the floor once more.

"Are you mocking me, _Blair_?" Chuck emphasized.

Her arms hooked up around his neck and she pulled him her way. Blair giggled, "Of course not, Your Highness. It would be so foolish for me to mock the Prince of England." She let go of him and twirled away from his body, alone.

Chuck glared at her. He moved forward before she had finished her spotlight dance and grabbed her. He hoisted her up as if he was handing her to the heavens and began to spin.

Blair gasped, "Put me down." She felt her curls flying all around her face and her dress catching the breeze also. She yanked his neck towards her. "I said put me down, Chuck," she ordered.

He chuckled and began to drop her, forcing her to grab onto him. Chuck smirked, "Forgive me, Blair. I couldn't help myself."

She pursed her lips for a moment, but soon grinned mischievously. She danced away from him, but ran back. This time, she jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and hooking her arms around his neck.

Chuck stumbled back, but found his balance. He could not believe she had just done that, but he couldn't be happier that she did. They went round and round again, but this time he held her close so she couldn't throw her head back.

"Forgive me. I couldn't help myself either," Blair returned. She put her lips very close to his, but then turned her cheek.

He closed his eyes and had tried to kiss her neck, but felt her heel jam into his leg. He hissed and dropped her down to her feet. His hands held onto her lower back and he watched, soon forgetting the pain, as she leaned completely backwards.

The music slowed as Blair brought herself up to stand straight again. Her chest heaved up and down against his, their foreheads touched. "That was quite a dance…for an Englishman," she whispered, smiling at him.

"And you are quite intoxicating… for this Englishman," Chuck smirked, winking at her. Her smile fell and he knew he had her. He leaned in to try and steal a kiss, not caring what of the consequences.

Blair saw him coming towards her. She also realized the music had stopped. Quickly, she turned her cheek and smiled nervously at the crowd. She pulled away from him and bowed.

Chuck growled at her rejection, but heard the applause of the two Courts. He bowed for Blair as well. It was a mistake though, for when he rose to meet her eyes—she was gone.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck moved rapidly through the crowd with determined eyes. He didn't even nod at people who extended greetings and bows to him. They didn't matter, only _she_ did. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but only that he needed to find her. The way she danced with him, the feeling he got when she touched him, when she spoke to him—it was too much yet he wanted more of it.

He felt someone touch his back and whipped around to see if it was she. Of course though, it wasn't. He should have known. It was not her touch, but that of a male's. For the first time in his life he wasn't happy to see Nathaniel.

"That was some dance. Your father, the King, is furious and poor Thomas spent the entire time complimenting you both with excuses," Nate remarked with an amused grin. He patted Chuck on the back.

Chuck pulled away from his hand. His eyes searched the crowd again. "I shall deal with my father later and I do not care what that halfwit had to say," he muttered.

Nate frowned, noticing a change in Chuck. How was it within mere minutes his friend was suddenly so different? He turned the other man towards, forcing the Prince to meet his eyes.

He smiled, "She was very beautiful, even if she was French. Perhaps I could tell both you and Thomas what she's like in bed." The test Nate was bestowing soon had results, when Chuck grabbed onto him roughly.

"Do not go there," Chuck warned, shaking his head. "This one is _mine_." He couldn't believe how such a possessive instinct had formed over Blair. His conquests were disposable, but _she_ was different. He didn't know why, but only that _she_ was.

Nate's eyes widened, some shocked. He shook his head and laughed nervously. "Do you not mean Thomas's?" he jested.

"No, I mean _she is mine_. Do not test me with this, Nathaniel. For if you do, it will be the first time in your life you bear consequences. Understand?" Chuck threatened. His left eyebrow rose and his nostrils flared.

"Yes, Your Highness," Nate mumbled. He was let go of and stumbled back, but caught himself at the last second. Still, it felt as if he was pushed to the ground. He stared at Chuck, going in search of _her_ again. Sure Lady Blair was gorgeous, but she wasn't worth fighting over. A bad feeling came over him. Nate decided that the Lady Blair was trouble for him, and for everyone else, especially Chuck.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Blair tossed and turned, kicking the fur covers off of her. She groaned and sat up. Her hands ran through her curls in a frustrated fashion. She looked around the dark room set up for her in the Palace of Illusions. It was temporary, thank God. The thought that led to, didn't bring her any sort of relief. She was leaving her beloved France for England tomorrow. Her fate had been sealed, but she still wanted nothing more than to break it.

"Ma Lady, y-a-t-il quelque chose qui ne va pas?" her French lady in waiting asked, rising from her small cot in the corner. She came over to Blair with concern on her face. It wasn't like she could sleep with all her unsettling movements.

_(French Translation: "My Lady, is something wrong?")_

"Non, je suis seulement agitée, c'est tout," Blair returned, shaking her head. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Every time she tried to go to sleep she heard _his_ voice, felt _his _touch. Chuck was just as frustrating in dream form as he was in real life. She rolled her eyes. Why was she even allowing herself to think of _him_ in the first place?

_(English Translation: __"No, I am just restless is all")_

"If that is all then I bid you goodnight again, my Lady," the other girl sighed, interrupting her master's thoughts.

Blair's head snapped up. "No—no, you shall not. Fetch my robe, girl. I wish to get some fresh air with hopes that when we return I can then find slumber," she told her.

The servant's shoulders slumped and she proceeded to drag her feet to Blair's bureau. "If you insist—"

"I do. Now stop acting like this isn't what you're here for," Blair spat, raising her voice. She hoped if anything that England had more obedient help.

The girl quickly fetched the robe and presented her. "Pardonnez-moi, ma Lady." _(English Translation: Forgive me, my Lady")_

Blair only snatched it from her arms though and put it on herself. She wrapped it around her tightly and sighed, not wasting anymore time as she left the room. She heard her maid follow behind her.

They walked a little while, but hadn't yet ventured outside as planned. Instead, Blair found herself turned down another hallway. She stopped in front of a door where guards had fallen asleep outside. It took great restraint for her not to snort a laugh.

"Lady Blair, we should not be here. These are Prince Charles' quarters," her lady in waiting whispered frantically as she reached to hold onto her.

Blair pushed her back and listened. She wanted to see if he snored, perhaps to taunt him for it later. However, she heard something quite different. From his room, the sound of moans and screams emerged.

"Ma Lady, je vous en pris. Nous savons tous les deux ce qui se passe ici," the girl begged again. She was nearly driven to tears when Blair not only didn't listen, but moved forward and pulled the curtain back to peer in.

_(English Translation: "My Lady, please. We both know what is going on in there")_

She didn't know what she was doing. Blair indeed was aware of what Chuck was doing of course, but that should have made her run. Yet she found herself drawn closer, wanting to see inside. It sounded disgusting, but it wasn't. She didn't want to see him having sex, but only how he had it. Her virgin curiosity had sparked and she couldn't help herself. She was in no way prepared for what she would see.

Chuck had a voluptuous brunette pushed up against the end of his bed, her bent over. They were both completely nude. He was pumping into her fiercely, his front hitting her bottom again and again. The clash of skin was almost as loud as the moans and screams from both their lips.

"How does it feel? How does it feel to have the Prince of England's massive cock ripping you apart?" Chuck demanded, yelling at the girl. He quickened his pace and pushed her harder into the bed.

The girl cried out, actually feeling more hurt than pleasure.

Blair felt her heartbeat quicken and her breathing became uneven. She was sinning, beyond comprehension. The sight though, she couldn't turn away. The sight of Chuck, sweating and rasping as he pounded the girl into the bed was so wrong, but so enthralling.

"Tell me! Have you nothing to say to me now, now that you have been dominated by a real man?" Chuck laughed in the most nefarious of ways. He stopped for a second and then thrust into her deeper than before.

"Please," the girl screamed.

A frown came to Blair's brow. What was he talking about? She had never seen sex before of course, but something wasn't right. The girl he was with had to have experience. From what she had heard about Chuck, what did he care if she had anything to say? It didn't make sense.

"You can't be in control here, can you? You'll never be in control again. All you'll want, all you'll crave is for me to fuck you again and again. Isn't that right, **Lady Blair**? Isn't that what you want?" Chuck growled, getting even rougher with the girl.

"Oh my God," Blair gasped, putting a hand to her chest. Her heart had stopped and she couldn't breathe. He—he was pretending that girl was she and that he was… She shook her head.

Suddenly, both Chuck and the girl cried out in complete ecstasy. Not caring about her, he pushed her away and stumbled back. He exploded all over her back, instead of into her. The girl fell onto the bed, weeping and ashamed, but also satisfied. He was far from it though. He moved around the room and screamed in frustration.

"You're not her! It didn't work! Ahhh!" Chuck yelled.

Blair dropped the curtain back into place and moved away from his room. She stumbled into her maid. The girl took her by the arm and dragged them both away from there.

"This is not good. My Lady, you must stay away from him. Please," the maid pleaded, speaking in a hushed, but frantic voice.

"He wants me," Blair acknowledged, staring forward into space. In her mind she could still see him. She saw how badly he waned that girl to be her.

The other girl stopped and frowned, confused with Blair's words. She sighed, "Yes, that is why you must try and avoid him. No good can come from you furthering his want, my Lady."

"Are you sure?" Blair asked. She smiled to herself. "I dare say if I pushed him far enough he'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?" She looked to her maid.

The girl shook her head. "I do not understand."

Blair smirked, "Then let me ask a simpler question. If you could not be a Queen in France, why settle to be a Princess of England when you could be Queen?"

"Lady Blair, I think you need to lie down," her maid responded. She was still confused, but didn't like the wicked smile her maiden had developed.

She ignored her servant, but pushed past the girl. Walking to her chambers, her thoughts began to run faster and faster. She couldn't have love, but she could have power. Fate hadn't let her down, but was in fact now presenting another option. She had a choice of which destiny she wanted. She chose.

"Destined to be Queen," Blair breathed. She nodded, closing her eyes. It was done. She knew what she wanted and she decided to do whatever it took to get it—no matter the consequences.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: So how was it? Also huge thanks to both my beta, VanillaLatte086, and my translator, Rolling09.


	4. A Rose Amongst Daisies

Chapter Four:

**A Rose Amongst Daisies**

_Outskirts of London, England_

Blair tapped her fingers against the carriage walls in union with the drumbeat outside. She knew they were nearing the palace by how the horses began to neigh for water and the calls of people who gathered around. Her eyes averted up to her ladies with her. She was only allowed one from France and the rest were replaced with English maids. So far she didn't trust them, but hopefully that could be changed in the future. She would need allies and in the times they lived, a woman had to look to another woman for a man would only let her down.

"Tire mes rideaux. Je veux voir hors de ces murs suffocants," Blair commanded, speaking her native tongue on purpose. It was the only way she could be cross at times, something she so enjoyed now that her beloved France was far behind her.

_(English Translation: "Pull back my curtains. I wish to see outside these suffocating walls")_

"Oui, ma Lady," the French maid complied. She then leaned across Blair and did her task. The two English ladies across from her did not seem happy at the bright light now filling the small space.

Blair waited until the girl had sat back down and then did not just glance out the window, but position herself to lean out of it.

"Lady Blair," the elder English maid gasped, putting a hand to her chest.

"Oh hush, I shall be plenty careful," Blair giggled, not caring if she seemed childish. It was probably best she seemed innocent to most, a rose without a thorn. After all, it was important to have the affection of the people—even if they were English.

She saw peasant children running along the Royal Caravan, holding their hands out as knights threw them gold coins. One boy halted, locking eyes with her, and then grinned running towards her with his small hands held out.

A Knight from behind saw and instantly came forth. "Get back, boy," he warned harshly when the child got so close.

Blair looked to the man and shook her head. "No, it is quite alright," she told him. Then she smiled softly at the child.

"Here, give this to your mother and father," Blair instructed. She dropped not one piece of gold, but the small pouch someone had given to her when they first arrived to England.

"Bless you, my Lady," the boy remarked breathlessly, holding the bag close to his heart.

She laughed and waved goodbye to him as their march carried on. When she returned her gaze forward though, she froze. Her eyes locked with dark brown. She quickly bowed her head. "Your Highness," Blair mouthed.

Chuck smirked, winking at her. Then to stay casual in the presence of others he turned forward once more and waved at some common people they passed. They all dropped to their knees in bows.

"Perhaps the Lady Blair shall make a fine wife for you after all, Thomas," Catherine noted, having seen Blair's kindness to the child. She rode on horse as well, beside Bart, and in front of her son, Chuck, and Nathaniel.

"Yes, she does carry a certain grace and elegance. King Francois paid a great favor to England," Bart agreed, entering the conversation. He kept his eyes forward though, making sure to acknowledge as many commoners he could. It was important that they loved and respected their King.

"I cannot wait to marry her, Your Majesty," Thomas said thoughtfully. He grinned to himself at the thought. Blair was so very beautiful and although she had been cold to him at first, she was now warming. She was a woman and women needed time.

Chuck rolled his eyes, scoffing at his future step-brother. When he looked up, he saw all partakers in the conversation staring at him. He smirked, "I think I shall check on our rose without a thorn."

"Charles—" Bart seethed, but his son had already turned his horse and rode back to where Blair's carriage was.

"Lady Blair, how do you find England?" Chuck asked as he conducted his horse very close to the window she leaned out of.

Blair met his eyes, but looked away instantly as if she were overlooking the area. She sighed, "I must say it is quite more rural than I imagined."

He chuckled, "We are in the country. Surely you are not so foolish—"

"Your Highness, I was only teasing you. I do admire how quick you are to defend your country though, même si c'est l'Angleterre," Blair whispered, and then giggled herself.

_(English Translation: "even if it is England")_

Chuck leaned in closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. He wanted her to feel his hot breath against her shimmering skin. His lips ached to—he stopped the thought before it could finish. "I thought I told you to call me Chuck," he whispered, kinking his eyebrows.

"I—I cannot address His Highness by his Christian name in the presence of others. It is not proper," Blair dismissed, feeling flustered. She hated how he could do that to her. It made it harder for her to be in control of her now planned seduction. She couldn't be just another liaison to him.

"You will do whatever I tell you to," Chuck returned. His voice was sultry, but also commanding. He smirked and sat up again, gazing at the city ahead of him. "London awaits us."

Blair followed his eyes. She could already see Whitehall Palace in her line of vision. It was not the largest she had seen, but it was a city castle and the inside of it was sure to be magnificent. Suddenly, it all felt far more real. Her eyes downcast and her lips pouted.

"Pendant que Paris m'oublie," Blair whispered, putting a hand to her heart. _(English Translation: "Whilst Paris forgets me")_ She did not want anyone to hear, nor hard she intended it, but soon realized Chuck did. He was staring into her eyes as if seeing something he hadn't before for the first time. Was it possible he was paying so much attention that he discovered her sorrow? Would it insult him like any other man of England? She braced herself for possible punishment. Perhaps she'd be even more her father's daughter than she thought.

Instead of annoyance, Chuck leaned in close to her again. "It shall be nice to see a rose amongst so many daisies in the English Court now," he conveyed, lowering his voice with each word.

"Even if it is French?" Blair breathed. She felt her heart beat faster whenever he spoke. His voice was calming, but also dangerous. She couldn't explain it.

Chuck nodded, kissing her hand. His eyes zoned in on it the moment his lips touched her skin, as did hers. They had both felt the electricity. It burned her skin and caused his lips to tingle, each craving for more in their own ways.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Whitehall Palace, London_

Blair wondered into the throne room at Whitehall Palace. She had hoped to _accidentally_ come across Chuck, but found not one royal in the room. Instead, she saw servants building a pretend palace of some sort. Around it scattered nobles and favorites of the royal family, draped in costumes. She stopped, putting a hand on her hip, and tried to figure what exactly was going on. As she pondered, someone came up from behind her and tapped her shoulder. She spun around alarmed, seeing who it was.

"Should you not have an escort of some sort in this new and perhaps frightening, foreign Palace?" Jack asked with the most sinister of smirks. It wasn't alluringly wicked like Chuck's, but uneasily dangerous.

Still, Blair kept her calm. "Your Grace," she greeted, bowing her head. Then she rose and turned forward. "I was only wondering what event this is and when it shall take place."

Jack grazed his eyes over the commotion with little interest. He sighed, "A silly play of some sort, most likely to make the Duchess Catherine Gray feel welcome."

She nodded and pointed to the women who rehearsed in the pretend castle balconies. "What about the ladies in white? What is their purpose?" Blair wondered. They were dressed like princesses with crowns and that was something that interested her. What made them so special?

"They are the Graces. They have names like Kindness, Honor, and Constance, Mercy and Pity," Jack furthered, nodding his head towards each girl. He was most certain he had seen each of them in his bed before.

"They are prisoners in the castle," Jack added, smirking at her as he moved ever so closer. His shoulder touched hers.

She released a loud sounding breath and casually stepped away from him. She acted as if furthering her examination of the display before meeting his eyes again. "Who is keeping them prisoner?" Blair questioned.

He put a hand to his chest. "My personal favorites: Danger, Jealousy, Unkindness, Scorn, Disdain, Strangeness, and…"

Jack was interrupted when a crowd of young men burst into the room. They headed straight for the girls, shouting things out.

Blair's eyebrows rose to signify Jack explain that.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, "The men represent: Youth, Devotion, Loyalty, Pleasure, Gentleness, and Liberty. Only they are not all there. His Royal Highness, my nephew, will perform with them. Though all members are masked until the Graces are rescued."

"Chu—I mean Prince Charles will _rescue_ one of the Graces?" Blair asked immediately, biting her tongue soon after. She had not meant to sound so eager, especially to Jack. She didn't quite care for him the moment she saw him. There was something in her that told her to stay away from him whenever she could, but at the moment he was being useful so she didn't.

"Yes, in jest at least. You will soon find the Prince does nothing honorable," Jack scoffed, sounding with clear disdain for his nephew.

Blair peered at him with piqued interest in his tone. She would think someone, especially his uncle, would speak with more love for the Prince of England—or at least pretend to.

Jack felt her eyes burning into the side of his face. He turned, flashing a grin full of mischief. "Is something troubling you, Lady Blair?" he asked. He did not sound sincere, but instead amused.

"Of course not, Your Grace," she dismissed, shaking her head. She pretended to watch the rehearsal once more. "I only hope one day I shall see what it's like to be a Grace of England." It was a complete lie, but frankly she didn't care if he realized that or not. She had already started to make mental notes about Jack, like she did everyone. So far she had concluded he was for the good of no one, but himself and likely found pleasure in twisted, tormented things.

"Let that day come now then," Jack nodded. He then held up his hand and signaled the director over. The man quickly scurried to him.

Blair's eyebrows rose. She wasn't sure why he was helping her, or if he even knew he was. She supposed she should not think so much about it though and just be happy her plan was so easily falling into place.

"Your Grace, what can I do for you?" the director asked, bowing before them.

Jack smirked, putting a hand on Blair's lower back. "I am not aware if you have met the Lady Blair, future Princess of England, to be wed to his Lordship, Thomas Gray?" he introduced.

The director looked to Blair, shook his head, and bowed. "No, but I assure you it is a pleasure, my Lady," he said, kissing her hand.

Blair retracted it from him immediately. She had wanted it to remain the sole place for Chuck's lips, even if that wasn't realistic. Now it was ruined- until he re-established his territory.

"I would like you to do a favor for me, sir. Put Lady Blair in the play, at the top under the Broken Hearts. She is much more suited for the position than any other girl at court, would you not agree?" Jack ordered, motioning to Blair.

The director nodded, "Of course, Your Grace. I will have a costume sent to her at once. Shall she stay and practice?"

"No, I believe if the Prince can miss the rehearsal than surely I am intelligent enough to do the same," Blair answered, smirking at both men.

The director looked horrified, but Jack appeared highly entertained.

He chuckled, "So the Lady speaks for herself. Carry on then." He dismissed the other man and fully stepped in front of Blair.

"Why did you do that, Your Grace?" Blair asked. She spoke more seriously and in the lowest of voices. She wanted him to know he could not get anything by her—or so she thought so far.

Jack took her hand in his and kissed it. Then he leaned in close. "I was only trying to redeem myself. Consider us even?" he asked, meeting her eyes once more.

Her brow furrowed. "For what?" Blair inquired. It sounded as if she were almost demanding an answer from him. The way he had said what he did made her so uneasy she could not help herself. For no amount of charm from any English Royal Family member could make her forget what happened to her father, at their hands.

"You ask too many questions," Jack concluded, shaking his head. He then let go of her hand and walked away from her, disappearing just as mysteriously as he first came.

She slowly turned into herself, rubbing her hand against her dress. He made her feel dirty. She decided she'd rather have been kissed by ten peasants than have his lips upon any part of her skin again.

"You should be more careful with whom you are seen speaking to in light of recent events," Nate drawled, coming up from behind her.

Blair turned around, narrowing her eyes at him. "I will do no such thing, nor will a man of your rank tell me to do anything, Lord Nathaniel," she bit. She didn't care if she technically agreed with him, she refused to have anyone push her around.

Nate shook his head. "Lady Blair, I am a Duke. You do not address me with a term so simple as Lord. Surely you know that, even if you were raised in France," he insulted.

She scoffed, "Forgive me, Your Grace. You see it was in France I learned titles are to be earned, not given by favor of the Prince."

He stood back for a few moments and moved closer to her, speaking in her ear. "How is it you have just arrived, but know so much of me?"

Blair shrugged, "Is it not a true Lady's job to know of all she shall one day associate with when coming to Court?"

"Yes, but we were not talking of a true, English Lady. We were speaking of you," Nate mocked, grinning at her. Perhaps he could have liked her in another lifetime, at a more mature place in his life, but not now. After all she had already taken so much of his friend's attention in such little time.

"Yes, you are correct in that conclusion, Your Grace. If I were an English woman you would see an odd-looking book shaped cap on my head rather than this nicely fitted French one," Blair smirked, twirling a mahogany colored curl between her fingertips.

"Au revoir, Monsieur," she giggled, then bowed, and left.

_(English Translation: __"__Goodbye, your Grace")_

Nate had never found himself so frustrated with a woman. He had also never been so disrespected by one. His mother was a quiet, faithful Lady. She knew the rules of the society he was raised by and abided by them at all cost. He knew of no other world—until Lady Blair smacked him in the face with it. And now all he wanted was to rid of it again.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck examined his reflection in the mirror, whilst waiting behind the curtain. He heard the drum roll, trumpets, and then light music of the harp. The performance was starting, the Graces arriving in the room beside him. Although he enjoyed the attention of his people, he had tried to get out of the event, finding it tiring. The maidens were masked and even when revealed mostly looked the same. There was never any change. The same practice took place each year, the exact dress, and so on of the tired tradition.

Suddenly, the sound of awes and whispers overpowered the harp.

"Your Highness, come and look what your little French friend has done now," William called. He and the other men were gathered around the small opening of the curtain.

Lady Blair's beautiful face immediately came to Chuck's mind. He pushed past all of them so he had the best and practically only view of what was going on.

The Graces entered the room, climbing the stairs to the castle. All were the same, except for one, except for _her_.

All ladies dressed in white, tightly fitted corset tops, and outward skirts. They wore fluffy white collars around their necks, small sets of pearl earrings, gold masks, and a modest crown atop their heads. There hair was pulled back in the tightest of buns and their lips a modest pink.

Blair was quite different though. Although her dress was the same, the collar was missing, exposing her lovely neck. She wore drop pearl earrings instead of bulbs. Her mask and crown were the same, but her hair was a looser bun, a few strands of curls framing her face. And her lips—well they were the deepest of reds.

"A rose among daisies," Chuck repeated breathlessly.

The drums started and Chuck found himself pushed forward into the room. He was still so fascinated with Blair though he found his motions slower than the others. His bow came much later, rather than in union with the rest of his men. He stood out immediately, but so did she.

"I demand you release your prisoners, upon our desires," the elder man, dressed in the most silly of costumes, commanded.

One of the maidens dressed in black looked to the man. "As Lady Scorn, I laugh at your desires," she mocked, speaking loud and clear.

"These men are noble Lords!" the man refuted. The crowd cheered in union as he motioned to them.

Lady Jealousy smirked, "No, they're just men dressed up!"

The audience laughed.

"I say it again, release these fair damsels that you keep so cruelly!" he ordered, waving his sword at them.

"Never!"

The man spoke up over the now booing crowd. "Then you give us no choice, but to attack and breech your defenses!" he shouted.

"No Knight shall ever breech mine," Lady Unkindness retorted, emphasizing the innuendo by the tone of her voice.

Chuck laughed along with the rest of the men in the room. The woman mostly blushed, some creating a cross across their chest. However, when he looked to Blair he saw her—grinning. Without a doubt, he knew which _damsel_ he was going to rescue.

"Lady, desire defeats all! Attack!" The trumpets sounded, as did fake booms around the room, and the ladies in black began to throw petals at the men circling the castle.

Chuck kicked open the gate though and hurried inside, jumping each step to the top and center balcony. He climbed up hastily and grabbed onto Blair's hand, hanging off the side.

Their eyes connected in the most intense and passionate of gazes.

His chest heaved up on and down, lacking breath, and awed in her presence. Both of their hearts beat in rapid union. He couldn't smile, but she did. It almost made him tremble.

"Perseverance, you are _my_ prisoner now," Chuck declared, gripping tighter onto her hand. He tried to pull her closer, her lips closer, but she stood strong and still.

Blair giggled, "Am I?" She then let go of his hand and twirled around, hurrying down the back steps.

Chuck jumped over the balcony though and grabbed onto the back of her skirt as they came into view. He yanked her against his front, speaking closer to her ear. "Shall I fully conquer you now?" His hot breath hit her nape.

A shiver ran down her spine and Blair closed her eyes. She felt his hand travel around her waist, sliding down to feel the shape of her thigh. They were only lucky the gate around the castle guarded the moment from public eye.

Music began to play.

Blair spun around, pushing a hand to his chest. "We must go and dance now, Your Highness. The performance is not yet over," she insisted.

He grabbed her arms and yanked her to his chest. Chuck smirked, "We shall go nowhere until you surrender. Say you are _mine_ for the taking." He was fully ordering her now, but he couldn't stop himself. The more he breathed her in, the greater his want became.

She tried to pull away from him, but he only held her closer, tighter. People began to whisper, noticing their absence. Her mother would surely kill her if she did not appear soon. She closed her eyes. "Je suis toute vôtre," Blair whispered quickly.

_(English Translation: "I am yours for the taking") _

Chuck smirked, leaning in to kiss her neck, but his lips only met wind. He found he had released her and she was well on her way to getting away from him.

She looked back over her shoulder and smiled. "Until the game is over of course," Blair taunted. And then she was gone; furthering the deepening craving he had for her.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Thomas sat at a table once a casual atmosphere took hold of the room. He kept his eyes on Blair. She moved quickly, but gracefully. Each time she turned he prepared to stand, greet her, but she never looked his way. His heart rose and fell every time she neglected him. It was as if she greeted every man in the room, even speaking to some, but him.

Chuck appeared from between a crowd, so close to Blair, that he seemed to be riding the back of her gown's skirt. He seemed to be calling for her attention, but she hopefully could not hear because she didn't address him. Thomas hoped the Prince would not be ill tempered with his fiancée.

"How does it feel, Thomas?"

Thomas turned at the sound of a male voice. He saw Duke Nathaniel Archibald, wine in hand, sit down beside him. Alcohol immediately flooded his nostrils. He was drunk.

"How does what feel, Your Grace?" Thomas asked, shifting in his seat in an uncomfortable fashion. He had never cared much for drinking, even limiting it to mass at times.

Nate scoffed, "How every man at Court follows your French fiancée like a dog, how they leer at her, and how even the Prince is fascinated by her mere presence?" He motioned his hand towards her in a dramatic fashion.

Thomas lowered his voice. "Please Your Grace, do not speak of the Lady Blair in such a bitter tone whilst I am near." He turned forward again, seeing that Blair had finally addressed Chuck. The Prince was rather close to her too, but Thomas assured himself it was only with sibling-like affection.

"You're a fucking fool," Nate rasped.

"Excuse me, Your Grace?" Thomas asked slowly. He was trying to contain his anger, but it was growing more and more difficult. He did not like to be insulted as if he were some common idiot.

"If the Prince of England advises those he cares for most not to love then what do you think he shall do to those he hates, those who have what he now apparently wants?" Nate furthered, standing up.

Thomas matched him. "I do not understand—"

Nate moved closer and put a hand to his chest. "How can you not understand? I have been his closest and most loyal friend since we were children and this is the first time I have ever seen him act like that!" he seethed, pointing directly at Chuck and Blair.

When Thomas turned he saw Chuck was now dancing with Blair, much similar to the way they had in the Palace of Illusions—when they first met. He put his head down and shook his head.

"You should let sleep find you, Your Grace. The wine is messing with your head," Thomas denied.

Nate rolled his eyes and scoffed, "No, but she shall mess with yours and any other man who comes across her." He then pushed Thomas lightly and stormed away from him.

Thomas watched him and then looked on Chuck and Blair again. Apparently they had separated, but the Prince almost ran into the Lady and now stood directly in front of her. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever.

"Forgive me," Chuck mouthed. He stepped to the side, but watched her as if pained in doing so. Blair bowed and moved past him, her shoulder brushing his. He closed his eyes, now seeming pleasured.

Worry creased Thomas's brow, but alas he shook his head and did his best to ignore it. He loved Blair and she—would at the very least learn to love him. It was not a crime to be charmed by the Prince of England. She had done nothing wrong.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Blair smirked wickedly with an alluring approach. She danced with delicate footsteps around the room for mere moments as doe brown eyes connected with a pair of ebony. Then she giggled and fell down forward, onto the desk. Pouting her lips, she peered up at him. Her arms shifted and the low line of her cleavage left little to his imagination.

"What are you doing out of bed at such an hour?" Chuck asked, trying to sound casual. He cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair, and kept a stern manner about himself. Still he felt the thick air of temptation began to fill the room.

She sighed as if completely bored and rose, shrugging her shoulders. "I could not sleep. The castle is so cold and I had far too much on my mind," Blair told him with a spacious enunciation. She then smiled invitingly at him as she sat down on his desk and dangled her feet in between his legs.

His left eyebrow rose in interest. He slid his hand onto her knee though found himself instantly frustrated it was heavily clothed by her white nightgown. Biting harshly onto his bottom lip, he shook his head and looked away. "What would such a naïve girl have to worry herself with?" he spat, closing his eyes.

The ends of her lips tugged up and she leaned forward. She gripped onto the clothing over his chest and spoke close to his ear. "Only what to wear in court that shall please you, Your Highness."

Chuck's eyes snapped open and his jaw clenched. He yanked her roughly down into his lap, spreading her legs so that they wrapped around him. Rapid breath spurred from his lips and nostrils flared. "Why are you toying with me like this? You're engaged to another man," Chuck seethed.

With an _innocent_ countenance she shook her head. "I despise him with every fiber in my being," Blair expressed. She then rested her forehead against his, nuzzling his cheek. "I only wish to please you while I still can."

"Red then," he rasped. His eyes rolled back into his head as he felt her lips on his neck. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, possessively.

"What?" she frowned, pulling back. When he was still lost in their touch though she grabbed hold of his cheeks and forced their eyes to meet.

He smirked at her rough actions. It was enticing to see her irritated for once. He shot his hands up and grabbed hold of where her nape met her head. Then he forced it back some until she let go of her hold on him. He shoved her face into the crook of his neck and nipped at her upper cheek.

"In my court, you shall wear red. Your dress shall be low-cut and with thin sleeves. Paint your lips like blood and spill dark curls down your back," Chuck breathed in command. His body twitched when he felt her slender leg wedge between his thighs.

And then without warning, Blair pushed against his chest and stood. She smirked, "I have no such dress to wear." She giggled and bowed her head.

"Bonne nuit, Votre Altesse." _(English Translation: __"Goodnight, your Highness")_

Chuck's mouth fell agape for a moment and he clenched onto the arms of his chair. Then he watched in shock as she left the room just as quickly as she had come before.

But unbeknownst to him, Blair stopped right outside the door. She rested against the castle wall and bit on her knuckles. A light feeling arose in her stomach as she waited for what she wanted. And it came.

Suddenly, the sound of crashing came from the study. Chuck began to pour out all his sexual frustration she had left him with. He tore curtains from the walls and knocked his heavy desk to the floor.

"Yes," Blair breathed. She put a hand to her heart that beat rapidly and then hurried back to her room, making sure to the lock the door.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Chuck walked into the empty castle corridors, hearing his heavy footsteps against the stone. There was a light fog about the air, not entirely uncommon, but not typical either. He didn't know where he was going in his mind, but his body led the way with full assurance. He turned the corner and froze. There __**she**__ was. _

_Blair stood in the open, empty room. Her back to him but turned to meet his eyes. She smiled softly, mysteriously. _

_He smirked, walking towards her, but then she started to run. Chuck laughed; realizing this chasing game of theirs was far from over. But he could catch better than anyone, even if he'd never tried before. _

_Blair ran around a corner and he slid to a stop. He followed her around and around a wall, his hands against the stone as he wished to set them upon her flesh. He stopped suddenly, his eyes searching for her when she vanished. She was quickly found again though. _

"_Blair," Chuck rasped, entering the darker room she sat in. He noticed she was on his throne, but he didn't care. He pushed himself between her legs and reached to throw up her dress. _

"_Don't," Blair whispered. She pushed his hands away and shook her head. "Not like this, never like this. I will not be like all others." Her voice was stern, but sensual. _

_He shook his head, ready to give her whatever she wanted. "You are not like them. You fascinate me. Tell me what you want and I shall give it to you," Chuck swore, grabbing hold of her hand and kissing it. _

_She smirked, whispering close to his ear. "Seduce me," Blair ordered. _

_Chuck closed his eyes, a flutter in the pit of his stomach, as she placed soft kisses on the side of his jaw. _

"_You have to prove that you want me, like you never have before. Ravish me with your words and actions," she furthered. She then stood and backed away from him. _

_Chuck stood, following her as she backed into another room, but having to stop before the doorway. _

"_Seduce me," Blair repeated. She closed the doors in his face. _

_He was about to beat on them, but then realized they weren't locked. He gripped the handles and threw them open. Chuck almost dropped to his knees at the sight. _

_Blair gasped, holding her arms around her chest. She was completely nude. Her perfect form displayed. _

_Chuck took a footstep into the room. _

"Ahhh!" Chuck sat up in bed, screaming at the top of his lungs. He breathed heavy; tearing off his shirt in a frustrated fashion, when he realized it was a dream.

The servant at his side jumped up and his guards at the door quickly filed in. "Your Highness, what is wrong? Has someone _agonized_ you?" Dan questioned.

Chuck ran a rough hand down his face, wiping at the beads of sweat. He shook his head. "What does it matter? There's nothing you could do. _She's_ gone," he whispered.

Dan frowned, "Who is gone, Your Highness?"

"She is gone," Chuck repeated. He turned to his servant then and grabbed onto his shirt, yanking him forward. "Go and get me the Royal dressmaker now!"

"Your Highness, it is the middle of the—"

"I said now!" Chuck screamed, pushing him forward.

Dan almost fell to the ground, but caught himself. He nodded quickly and stumbled out of the room, not daring to ever question the prince's actions again.

Chuck wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. If he gave her what she wanted, she'd give him what he wanted—**her**.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

"Ma Lady, il est l'heure de vous réveiller de votre sieste," the servant girl announced as she pulled back the surrounding curtains that hung from the bed. _(English Translation: "My Lady, it is time to awake from your midday nap")_

Blair held a hand over her head and frowned, blinking her eyes. She was still tired from the night before. She had stayed up so late when provoking Chuck.

"Tea," Blair commanded. She held out one hand and used the other to push her body up into a sitting position.

"Yes, my Lady," the head maid answered as she brought a delicate porcelain cup and placed it into Blair's hands.

Blair sipped on it for a few moments. She then looked on the bustling maids with a dull expression. The previous night had proved to be fun, but she doubted much fun would take place in court. She would need to be proper while on that imbecile's arm.

"What shall you wear to court today, my Lady?" one finally asked as she bowed at the end of the bed, before the brunette.

Blair sighed, pursing her lips as she pondered the thought. She was just about to suggest one of her mother's latest gowns when a gasp was heard from the maid at her bureau.

"What is it, girl?" Blair spat immediately. She climbed onto her knees and to the end of the bed, arching her head for a better view.

"I—I just had not noticed such a dress in your wardrobe before, my Lady. Forgive me," the servant girl apologized. She then brought out the dress and held it up for Blair to see.

The other girls and women in the room all blushed at it's low-cut and divulging bodice. More importantly, it was one of the deepest reds Blair had ever seen in her entire life.

"Chuck," Blair breathed, touching her heart. She got up from the bed and touched the material. Instantly she smirked. It was only the best of course.

She then turned around and nodded with a high sense of pride. "I shall wear it. See if there are any remarkable jewels as well. And I want my lips painted red, hair dropped down my back," Blair ordered.

The head maid shook her head with great disapproval. "But my Lady, it is not proper for one to wear something so—"

"Anything is proper if given by the Prince. Do you disagree?" Blair retorted, left eyebrow quirking.

"No, my Lady," the elder woman quickly shook her head.

"Good," Blair smirked. She then turned forward once more and closed her eyes. "Be sure to bring me one of my best corsets as well. Such a dress should be worn to its true potential."

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Jack came into Bart's study, holding out his arms. "Brother, why have you called upon me? Are you upset I have not yet properly congratulated you on your upcoming nuptials?" he asked with a sarcastic tone of voice.

Bart looked up at him with serious blue eyes. "I have been informed you were speaking to Lady Blair yesterday. What about?" he asked.

"Just explaining an English custom. If you have anyone to worry about getting close to her then look to your own son," Jack smirked, sitting down across form him.

"My own son," Bart said quietly. He changed the subject, getting back to business as he met his younger brother's eyes. "What exactly happened in Italy, Jack?" He didn't have to say what he really thought aloud, they both knew what he really meant.

Jack's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "Surely you do not think I conspired to have the Prince of England, my own nephew, killed?" he scoffed.

"You have ordered deaths to those closest to me before—Duke Waldorf, for example," Bart reminded him, bringing up a memory he tried each day to bury in his mind, to forget.

His brother rolled his eyes. "Not this again. I know his daughter has come to Court, but for God's sake I had good reason. Besides, any member of the French Court does not belong in England," Jack retaliated.

Bart's eyes opened and his fist banged against the desk. "I had known him since I was a boy. He was very neutral with our countries and you knew that!" he shouted, breathing harshly.

Jack stilled for a moment, but then refused to back down. "It does not matter. If the church had known what he really did, how he truly betrayed God—"

"I do not want to speak of this anymore," Bart dismissed, standing up. He turned to his back to Jack and looked out the window. "Let us speak of you serving your best purpose in England elsewhere instead."

"What?" Jack shot up from his seat. "You are not banishing your own brother from Court!" he shouted.

Bart turned around to face him. "No, but I am ordering that he serve his own Royal Duty at another palace, in the country. There he can train with one of our proud armies. After all, he is so fond of battle and war," he declared.

Jack leaned back and stilled. His lips thinned and eyes narrowed. He knew not to yell anymore. Bart was unfortunately King and could do whatever he wanted. He could even have Jack's head if further angered with him. So he kept his voice low, but still threatening.

"Fine, but mark my words, I shall be back," Jack warned. He turned to leave, only stopping when he heard his brother speak again.

"Not if I say you will not," Bart claimed.

"Yes, but you shall not always be around to keep me away," Jack whispered to himself. Then he left, very angry.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: How was it? Do you still want to read more? Oh and hopefully anyone who was confused about Nate is now starting to understand him more.

Disclaimer: Obviously some things have been used from the Tudors to kick off and situate the correct time/mood/setting. There were some epic lines I needed to include, but for the most part I tried to keep CB dialogue original. If other dialogue or situations were repeated it had to do with me needing accurate Tudor events, such as the play or how dances are performed. If anyone knows any good websites where I can learn about these things please email me. I have a ton of scenes written for here on out that are entirely my own.


	5. Stallions of Dark and White

Chapter Five:

**Stallions of Dark and White**

_Whitehall Palace, London_

Blair entered the dinning room, head held high and smirking when all eyes set upon her and her attire. She wore the red gown that Chuck had given her, not caring in the least if the mere sight of it screamed scandal. Not wishing to resign to her seat yet, she allowed her eyes to scan over the room. Her search was soon over when she found him.

Chuck blatantly stared at her from across the room. His dark eyes were full of lust, raking her up and down. His tongue struggled not to lick his lips.

She giggled under her breath, bowing her head teasingly.

But his fists clenched at his sides, nostrils flaring. Suddenly, he was rigid.

She frowned, baffled with his change and reasoning for such behavior. It was then brought to her attention that he was not looking at her, but to her left. She turned, almost smacking into Thomas.

"La—Lady Blair, may I show you to your seat?" Thomas stuttered, sweating more with each broken word.

Her ruby lips thinned, but with disinclination she nodded. "Of course, Your Lordship," Blair returned shortly, extending out her hand.

He grinned, bowing first, and then taking it. As they walked, he commented, "That is a lovely gown you're wearing. Is it from France?"

"It was made there," she returned, jesting in secret.

Thomas chuckled, "Do you mean to tease me?"

Blair turned towards him, completely serious, and dropped her hand. "Not at all, my Lord," she told him, voice flat.

Thomas's face fell, but he quickly hurried to pull out her chair, and hide his embarrassment.

"Thank you," Blair sighed, taking her seat. She instantly crossed her legs and positioned her hands gracefully in her lap.

Thomas waited for her to look at him again, wanting to continue their conversation. When he soon learned she was not going to do so, he decided to resign to his seat as well. He sat down next to his fiancée and put his hand on the back of her chair.

"Surely someone of your rank knows that is not proper!"

The room fell dead silent, all looking to whom had snapped at Thomas. The young man stared fearfully at Chuck, immediately retracting his hand.

"Ex—excuse me?" Thomas asked, his voice dry and nervous. He pulled at the collar of his shirt and tried to keep eye contact with the Prince, though he felt much inferior. Not to mention, Chuck was standing and he sitting.

"Sitting next to Lady Blair when she is your fiancée. That is not proper. Move," Chuck ordered, glaring at him. He wore both a determined and unsympathetic expression.

Thomas quickly got up, but then looked around and saw he had no place to sit. All other seats were taken.

Blair giggled, "You have given him an impossible task, Your Highness. Take pity on my poor fiancé. I assure you it is not in his nature to be inappropriate." Though she seemingly vouched for Thomas, her voice was somewhat condescending. Still, she knew no matter how she said it, the reaction she wanted from Chuck would prevail.

Chuck was furious at Blair speaking for Thomas, against him—especially since the room seemed to agree with her. He pushed back his seat roughly and shook his head. "Take my seat then, Thomas. I shall have yours," he retorted.

Thomas looked from Chuck to Blair.

"Now!" Chuck demanded, raising his voice.

Blair watched as Thomas scurried from his seat, around the table, to Chuck's like some kind of rodent being chased by a broom. It took all she had not to show her amusement for the relation.

When Thomas took Chuck's seat, the previous dinner discussion began again.

Chuck bent down, touching Thomas's shoulder though his eyes locked with Blair's. "Good boy," he mocked under his breath.

Thomas's eyes fell to his lap and he pulled away from Chuck.

Blair gripped her dress on her thigh, biting her bottom lip. It was so wrong, but she found herself wanting to lust for Chuck. It was as if she found his dominant, snide, and rude behavior attractive. Her eyes followed his entire journey around the table and then met his when he pulled out Thomas's previous seat.

Chuck smirked at her and sat down. He took a drink of wine, a glass of many already had that evening. He watched her turn forward, smiling innocently, provoking him obviously. It worked too. He moved closer to her and leaned in, curving his hand around her thigh under the table.

"What a beautiful dress you have on, Blair—though, it'd look much better on my floor," he whispered in her ear.

She closed her eyes, shivering at the feeling of his hot breath on her neck. Quickly, she recomposed herself. Her eyes opened and she scoffed, pushing him away lightly. "You're repulsive," she retorted.

He only chuckled darkly and took another drink of wine, crudely admiring her chest; put on display thanks to the dress he gave her.

Blair sat up as the servants brought in the first course, setting it before them. She felt Chuck getting closer again. Clearly, he was a tad more drunk than usual.

"The King, your father, is glaring at us," Blair told him, making sure she did not look at him as she spoke.

Chuck rolled his eyes, sliding his hand between her legs. He was frustrated, cloth blocked his hand from feeling skin, but just pushed harder.

Her eyes widened and she tried to sit up, but he applied more pressure and she instantly fell back into her seat. "Stop it," Blair seethed. She hated that she was not in control, physically or mentally.

"I don't want to stop. I want to see if I can feel how wet you are for me; how warm. You deserve it, don't you think? You spoke for Thomas against me, yet you claim to hate him. Whether that means you lied to me or was just being disloyal—well either way you deserve punishment," he drawled, trailing off into a laugh.

Blair pursed her lips and then reached her hand across, grabbing his inner leg. She wanted to go one step further, but honestly could not do so. She squeezed hard. "How does it feel when the tables are turned?" she spat, glaring at him.

Chuck smirked, "It'd feel great if you moved your hand to the _harder_ spot to find."

She scoffed, quickly retracting her hand. "I don't know why I let you dress me up in this. I do not care what you want."

"Yes, you do," he returned with confidence. His hand slid further in, grasping her more. "If you didn't you wouldn't have worn it."

Blair met his eyes, smirking. The moment it caught him off guard, she grabbed his hand, and dug her nails into him.

"Owe," Chuck spat, hitting it under the table when he yanked it away.

She picked up his wine glass and held it to him in means to toast. "You must be more careful, Your Highness," Blair giggled. She drank the rest of his wine.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

After dinner Blair disappeared from the crowd. She was in need of some time alone, even from Chuck. They were leaving for the palace at Hampton Court in the morning. It was in the country and she was dreading to be away from the city. Even if it was London, at least it had some life to it. For the long ride, she made a trip to Whitehall's prestigious study to look for a book she could read along the way.

"Quel dommage qu'une collection aussi parfaite prenne ainsi la poussière," Blair muttered to herself, shaking her head. She ran her fingertips along the titles of all the novels and religious learning one could imagine.

_(English Translation: "What a shame for such a fine collection to gather so much dust.")_

When her eyes caught hold of a particular book, she froze. "Utopia," she breathed. Her shaky hand reached out and retrieved it, holding it close to hear heart. She closed her eyes.

Blair could still hear her father's voice reading it to her. She'd fall asleep listening to his soothing tone and beautiful enunciation. Her heart clenched and she bit her bottom lip.

Then without another thought, she opened her eyes and walked quickly from the study, taking the book with her in a way like she would if she intended to steal it—perhaps she did. Her original copy had been lost back in France. She was sure she would never see it again, so she would have to make due.

She had just about made it back to her chambers when she stopped to peer into a peculiar room. The door was cracked open and one candle lit the surroundings dimly in the center of a long table. Blair looked around to make sure no one was coming and then went inside. She began to investigate what its use could possibly be for, when a secret looking door began to open.

Blair gasped and hurried to hide behind a heavy set of curtains. Her heart pounded as someone yelled, but luckily it was not at her.

"You sent him away without even asking me!" Chuck screamed, stomping into the room after his father. Bart shut and locked the other door which Blair had came in from.

She recognized Chuck's voice, but not how upset he sounded. The consequences of being caught would be dire, but she couldn't help herself. She peaked from behind the curtain.

Bart sighed and turned around calmly to face his son. He shook his head. "Charles, calm down. I sent Jack away with your best interest in mind," he told him.

Chuck scoffed, "My best interest? My best interest?" He began to shout again. "Shall you ever have any other answer for constantly removing those I care about from my life?"

"You will not speak to me in such a manner. I have given you everything you are entitled to as the Prince of England and more. And it is not as if I executed him, but simply sent him away to train our military," Bart reasoned.

"Our military is the best in the damn world! They didn't need him! You just finally realized he was someone I could relate to and had to pull him out from under me!" Chuck screamed.

Bart sat down, putting his head in his hands. "He was suspected of trying to have you killed. Surely you must believe me. I would never just so lightly send my own younger brother away."

Blair's eyes widened, now knowing they were speaking of that Jack. She had no idea Chuck cared for his uncle, or really anyone. Perhaps there was a greater issue at hand.

"My uncle would never plot to have me killed. You just hate him because he can understand me and you can't, because I'm more like him and proud of it," Chuck said quietly, but seriously.

Bart turned to look at him. "You are half right. I do hate that my own son loves my brother more than I, my brother who would likely have your head if it brought him closer to the crown," he breathed.

Chuck fell silent for a few moments, looked away, and shook his head. "I do not believe you. And I never said I loved him. I've never said that about anyone. You made sure of that," he concluded and then walked from the room just as fast as he came.

Bart rubbed his temples and sighed. Then he looked to the ceiling, as if he saw more than stone. "You shouldn't have left him, Elizabeth. I told you I couldn't do it on my own."

Blair sunk back into the wall, putting a hand over her mouth. She did not want to be heard, especially with the King in his current state. So she stayed there until he left and then slipped out, wishing she had never listened in on them.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Outskirts of Surrey, England_

The sound of rain hitting the carriage gave both a peaceful and gloomy feel to Blair on the ride from London to Surrey, Whitehall Palace to Hampton Court. They had started out later than planned due to the weather and were not making good time now because of it. She didn't mind much though, it kept her maids quiet, some even falling asleep. It was the perfect atmosphere for her to read.

"My Lady, we are stopping at some tents for the horses to be tended to. Some are getting out of their carriages and going inside," her French servant girl told her, peaking through the curtains.

Blair kept her eyes on her book and turned the page. She sighed, "Is the Prince one of them? I haven't seen him at all today." She made sure to speak in French on matters like this with her maids, that way not everyone could understand and many wouldn't put forth the effort to try.

The girl shook her head. "He is not, but I do see his carriage. His black stallion is traveling with him. It's his favorite horse," she explained.

"Hold this." Blair handed her book to another maid and then moved forward, peering out the window with the one speaking. "Let me see," she ordered.

"Of course, my Lady." The servant girl moved aside instantly.

Blair peered at the horse, smiling softly. It appeared wild, but confined—just like him. She suspected he and the creature got along well.

"I heard the Prince had an ill temperament this morning."

Blair turned around to stare at the girl who had spoken. Then she opened the door of the carriage and climbed out.

"My Lady, you will get wet!" one cried, trying to force her shall upon Blair.

"I am fine. I would like to ride with the Prince now," Blair informed them, nodding her head with a smirk. "But do not tell anyone."

The girls all seemed uneasy, but bowed respectfully in reply.

Blair shut the door and slipped between coaches to the side where no one stood. Then quietly, she made her way over to Chuck's, knocking on the door.

"Go away!" Chuck bellowed from inside, not even bothering to look out his window. His curtains remained closed instead.

She rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Un prince ne devrait pas être si grossier," Blair, informed him, knowing he couldn't mistake her.

_(English Translation: "A Prince shouldn't be so rude.")_

As if on cue, the door immediately opened to reveal Chuck. He stopped quickly though. They both stared at each other for what seemed like ages. Then when he saw how wet she was getting, and not in the context he wanted, he motioned inside, and sat back.

Blair climbed in, closing the door, and falling into the seat beside him. Right away the stench of alcohol burned at her nose. She scowled, locating the few empty bottles on the seat across from him.

"Drinking will not make you feel better, Chuck," she told him. Her voice was scolding him some, but there was an underlying concern even she wasn't ready to acknowledge yet.

"What will then?" Chuck returned shortly, taking another swig.

She sighed and removed it from his hands, screwing on the cap, and putting it with the others. She smiled, "Me."

Chuck smirked with hazy eyes and moved forward, pushing her back against the seat. He kissed her like some hungered, wild animal. His hands began to roam, trying to make way between her fabric and breasts.

Blair kissed him back for a few moments, but soon twisted her lips and pushed at his chest. "No—no, not like that," she managed.

He growled in aggravation and roughly pulled away from her. "Bloody hell," Chuck spat. His foot kicked at the base of the other seat.

She watched him silently, thinking how most women would take that as their leave. Obviously, Blair was not most women and that would not be the case for her. Instead, she sat back into her set calmly and took out Utopia.

"_Plato doubtless did well foresee, unless kings themselves would apply their minds to the study of philosophy, that else would never thoroughly allow the council of philosophers, being themselves before, even from their tender age, infected and corrupt with perverse and evil opinions_," Blair read aloud, picking up right where she had left off.

Chuck, who had turned away from her in frustration, found his curiosity piqued at the sound of her voice. Gradually, he turned towards her and inched closer in his seat, looking over her shoulder at the text.

"What are you reading?" he asked. His voice was now hoarse, indicating he was still intoxicated, but not so high-strung.

Blair stopped and turned her cheek, meeting his eyes. "Utopia. Surely you, the Prince of England, have heard of it?" Her eyes sparkled with amusement at the option of him not having done so.

He shook his head, putting his hand on his chest. "I, Chuck, have not. Tell me about it," he requested, tapping the page with his finger.

She grinned, turning back to it and running her hands over the leather cover. "It is a marvelous work of fiction by Sir Thomas More. In it, he depicts a fictional society, located on an island, and all of its customs," Blair explained.

"Sounds so interesting," Chuck returned sarcastically.

"But it is. You only have to read it is all. Then you will see," she swore. She sounded with great passion for the work, but wondered if he would take notice.

"You have read it before?" His eyebrows rose. "Tell me how exactly you came across this Utopia?" Chuck furthered.

Her eyes instantly fell away from his and to the floor of the carriage. "My—my father read it to me as a child. First the French translation, then the English, and finally the Latin original, but the way he read it—it made each time sound like a new book. I never lost interest," Blair revealed.

Chuck tried to think back to a memory of he and his father he could relate hers too, but directly realized—he couldn't. So he tried to shy away from his solemn feeling and forced a smile. "Where is your father now? Perhaps he could convince me to read it," he opted.

She turned towards him, furrowing her brow. Surely, he was not so cruel. Or did he truly not know what happened to her father, at his family's own hand? When he stared back at her, looking innocent for the first time since she met him, she had her answer.

"I—I'd like to think he's in heaven," Blair whispered.

Awareness dawned on Chuck's face, the smile disappearing. He could not think what to say or do, yet his lips moved. "My mother's dead too."

She almost cringed at the way he said it, so bluntly. It appeared he was much more detached than she. Still though, she asked, "Elizabeth?"

He did not seem surprised, but used to hearing it. "Yes," he answered simply. No more would be shared though; he was not willing at that point and time. So he fell silent, hoping she'd understand.

Blair nodded and reopened the book, but started from the beginning. The carriage started up again as she read. She had no plans of leaving and doubted he would let her even if she wished to. So she continued, only stopping for a moment when Chuck rested his cheek on her shoulder to listen.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck walked with Nate, Edmund, and William through the courtyard. They were on their way to play a game of tennis, as per usual when at Hampton Court. However, Chuck's mindset was not so typical. His thoughts continued to wander to the previous day with Blair, in his carriage. It had been the first time in his life that he had allowed someone to comfort him and he hadn't even realized that until the moment was over. He now found himself craving that understanding and acceptance, but wanted to run away from it at the same time.

"Chuck? Chuck, did you not hear Edmund's question?" Nate asked. He patted his friend on the shoulder, trying to get his attention.

"What?" Chuck turned to look at the other men, confused with reality.

Edmund grinned, "I said don't you think we should invite dear Thomas to the match? You know, to hold our sweaty towels?"

Chuck chuckled, putting his arm around Edmund's neck. "I am not sure he has enough intelligence to handle such a task," he furthered. The rest of them joined in on his loud laughter.

William's slowed though as he looked forward, on ahead. He nodded, "Speaking of Thomas."

They all followed his gaze and saw Blair across the courtyard. She walked just a few steps ahead her two French maids she had brought with her. Her gown stood out among every woman's there, yet again. It was not only of the French style, but a shimmering gold pattern throughout the gown and flowing sleeves, tipped in red. Her hair was down, but pulled back around her face, and she wore a rather expensive ruby necklace.

"Ah yes. His gorgeous, French fiancée," Edmund commented. "Though I must say she doesn't seem to like him much from what I've seen."

Nate scoffed, "She's French, she doesn't like anything. Show me one of their women who aren't either bitter or loose."

Chuck ignored his friend's insult and handed back his racquet, pushing it into Nate's chest. "Stay here, Nathaniel," he ordered before walking off.

He headed right for Blair, but when she did not noticing him coming, he called out to her. "Blair!"

She turned and met him with a surprised, alert expression. It was that which caused him to also notice others had heard his improper greeting. He just smirked though, stopping, and motioning her over.

She momentarily spoke with her ladies in waiting so that they fell behind some when she approached him. Blair bowed, "Your Highness."

He laughed as if her behavior was abnormal and returned the gesture, but in means of poking fun. "Lady Blair."

Blair sighed, rolling her eyes as she moved closer to him. "What do you want?" she whispered.

Chuck touched the tips of her fingertips with one hand and lightly stroked the front of her dress with the other. "Shouldn't you be pleased with the Prince of England speaking to you, no matter the reason?"

"You don't have anything to say. You just want to aggravate me," she muttered, shaking her head. She then turned to walk away, but he grabbed onto her hand, and yanked her back.

"You will not leave until I dismiss you." His lips were pursed and his eyes serious. He wasn't used to someone doing that and he didn't like it.

She kept calm and casually removed her hand from his. "Fine. I shall stay here until I am dismissed," Blair said bitterly. Her eyes looked away from his.

Chuck sighed, "I did not mean to order you. I—" He stopped himself from apologizing. It wasn't what he did. He didn't have to. There was no reason.

Blair crossed her arms. She saw as Chuck moved into her view, touching her sides briefly.

"I am off to play a game of tennis. I was wondering if you would like to come and watch me play?" Chuck proposed, sounding more hopeful than he ever intended or wanted to.

She stared at him for a few moments and then shook her head. "I have never been one to fancy sports. I thank you for the offer though, Your Highness." Her tone was suddenly formal and she knew by the look on his face, he didn't like it.

He furrowed his brow. "I do not understand. The other day, our time in the carriage, I thought—I thought it was…nice," Chuck managed. The word burned sulkily at his tongue.

Blair was some astonished with his words. She didn't want him to know that and promptly changed her expression. She smiled, "Yes, but that was not the same. I prefer you alone, not—" She paused and looked directly at his friends, specifically Nate. "With them."

Chuck glanced back at his friends, biting his bottom lip.

She felt anxious and reached out, grabbing his hand where no one could see. She stroked his palm with her thumb. Getting just what she wanted, he returned his attention to her right away.

Chuck felt intrigued with what she had said and also, perhaps wanting the time she spoke of—alone.

"Your Highness, let's go!" Nate shouted, almost angrily.

"I am coming!" Chuck screamed in retort. He then nodded to Blair. "I must go now, but I shall see you tomorrow."

She was about to ask why, but he walked away. Only halfway, he paused again, and looked back at her. "What is it?" Blair asked.

"Don't see Thomas today, in my absence," Chuck ordered. It sounded as if he were warning her, his eyes very ominous.

She smirked, "I am not yours to command, Your Highness. Do enjoy your sport though." With that, she walked away.

_Chuck had never felt so off his game._

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck went over his appearance carefully in the mirror. He was handsome as always, but today he wanted to be impeccably handsome. His hair was brushed more than usual and a fully clean shave was displayed on his face. To top it all off he wore newly made, fine clothing, and magnificent gems.

"Introducing, Duke Nathaniel Archibald," his door servant announced, hitting the large staff against the stone floors.

Nate walked in with an excited smile. "I see someone is ready for a good hunt. Edmund and William are already gathered downstairs," he informed him.

Chuck didn't respond, but went to his nightstand and took medicine from the drawer the doctor had given him. He could afford no illnesses.

His friend frowned at being ignored, but played it off with a laugh. "Are you not dressed a tad too finely, even for the Prince of England?"

"I am not going hunting today, Nathaniel," Chuck finally informed him, meeting his eyes. He came in front of him, nodding. "You and the other boys will go though, with Thomas."

"With Thomas?" Nate scoffed and shook his head. "Wait, first off why and second, well—where shall you be?" he questioned.

Chuck smirked, "I am taking Blair riding, alone." He emphasized the last word greatly, then winking at his friend.

Nate did not return the fun behavior. Instead, he glared and laughed breathlessly. "Why don't you just buy her a bloody horse?" he asked sarcastically.

"I did," Chuck chuckled. He moved over to the window and lifted back the curtain so that Nate could see out.

Nate couldn't believe his eyes. Outside, next to Chuck's purebred black stallion, was a purebred white stallion. He had to get a closer look to believe it. Once he did, it angered him all the more. "A stallion? You didn't even buy me one when you got yours. You insisted no one was to be at your level," he spat.

Chuck was unfazed. He shrugged, "I still don't intend to buy you one. You have many fine horses, Nathaniel. This is for Blair."

"What's going on, Chuck?" Nate asked. He sounded now with slight anxiousness. It seemed more serious than he had ever thought it would be, Chuck's attachment to this… woman.

"It's not within your right to ask, only to obey, Nathaniel. Now do what I say and don't ask questions," Chuck told him seriously. He then nodded and began to walk away. "And next time, remember to bow!"

Nate looked back at where he had left, fisting his hands at his sides. Things were definitely changing—and he hated it.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Hampton Court, Surrey_

Chuck climbed on his horse and took its reins from the servant. He then straightened himself out, running a hand through his hair. His gaze drifted to a reflective window of glass and he admired himself, smirking.

"Will you be riding off to hunt, Your Highness? I shall fetch the dogs," the servant offered, looking up at him.

"No. There shall be no hunting or dogs today. I have other important business to tend to. If anyone asks though, I am hunting," Chuck replied, giving him an almost threatening look not to disobey.

"Of course, Your Highness," the servant said faithfully, bowing to his knees.

Chuck didn't respond, but rode out of the stables, back towards the castle. He slowed down when he came along the great stonewalls, looking up. His eyes scanned over each window, the curtains organized by color, and stopped when he came to the right one. Then he took a ball he usually hit with a racquet, and threw it up, into the window.

"You rascal children!" a maid shouted, coming to the window. She stuck her head out and froze. "Oh, Your—Your Highness. I am terribly sorry. I thought…"

"Where's Lady Blair?" Chuck interrupted, calling up to her in inquiry

The servant looked inside for a moment and then returned to his attention. "She is having her morning bath, Your Highness!" the woman reported.

"Well tell her to get out and come outside! Say that his Royal Highness demands her presence at once!" Chuck shouted, becoming rather anxious.

The maid glanced back into the bedroom once again. He realized that someone was clearly communicating with her and he had a good guess of who that was.

The girl shook her head, eyes widening. Reluctantly, she finally returned, "My Lady wishes to know why, Your Highness."

He frowned, "Who cares what the reason is? I commanded it. She will come down." His voice became more forceful, strong, and domineering. He was not about to let her just turn him away or treat him as if he were of inferior birth.

Suddenly, the maid was pushed aside and Blair appeared, _fully dressed._ "I care! You will tell me why you are dragging me out of my room and harassing my poor maid!" she retorted.

He smirked, but it held a strange combination of annoyance and amusement.

She grinned, leaning forward on the windowsill, placing her chin atop her knuckles.

Chuck sighed loudly, "Because I want you to come riding with me. Don't you want to see England for what it's worth?" His eyebrows rose in question.

She laughed, "And what is that? A shilling or two?"

His eyes narrowed and lips thinned. "Just like a woman, you past judgment without knowledge."

Instantly, she glared at him. "Je ne descendrai certainement pas maintenant , pas après que vous m'ayez insultée de la sorte!" Blair proclaimed.

_(English Translation: "I shall never come down now, not after you insult me so!")_

Chuck smirked, "Oh yes you shall. If not, how am I to give you your gift?"

She paused, clearly caught off guard and curious. "Un Cadeau?" she asked.

_(English Translation: "A gift?")_

He chuckled and motioned his hand backwards.

Blair watched as a servant brought out a gorgeous purebred white stallion, it standing opposite to Chuck's entirely black one. The white horse was dressed in red and gold, a magnificent and lavishly finished creature.

"Elle est Française," Chuck announced, stroking her mane. He knew those words would make Blair have to accept the gift, if for no other reason.

_(English Translation: "She's French.")_

"I'll come down for a closer look!" Blair said carefully. She then disappeared, only to reappear on the grass minutes later. Slowly, she walked up to the stallion and began to pet her.

"She likes you," he remarked, sounding surprised in means to tease her. Then he shrugged. "Though I am not surprised. Beautiful creatures tend to find each other."

Blair looked up at him, meeting his eyes. She was almost shocked with his _sweet_ comment. Then she remembered how she must maintain herself, shook her head, and glared at him. "Is she mine without conditions?" Her voice was full of suspicion.

"Only one, that you ride with me," Chuck responded truthfully. He didn't need to use a horse to win her, just to further bribe her into the game.

She paused for a moment and walked to the front of the stallion. The horse bowed its head gracefully; Blair smiled, and kissed between its eyes. She sighed, "Fine. Show me what England has to offer."

Chuck smirked and clapped his hands. A servant immediately came over to help her up onto her horse, but he leaned over and handed her the reins. "As long as you can keep up with me."

Blair scoffed, "Please—Chuck, wait!" She watched as he galloped off, cried out in aggravation, and kicked her horse to chase after him.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: I am nervous about this chapter and if you guys will like it so please let me know. A big thanks to my beta, VanillaLatte86, and my translator, Rolling! I really appreciate it, girls! Tell me if you want more.


	6. A Lady's Desire

Chapter Six:

**A Lady's Desire**

_Outskirts of Surrey, England_

Chuck rode into a cleared meadow at full speed. He hadn't seen Blair come even close to him since he took a "small" head start. It seemed as if she couldn't keep up. Well, she was a woman after all. He chuckled to himself and turned his cheek to see how far behind she had fallen.

He frowned, "Where is she?" She couldn't be so far back that he couldn't see her in a clear opening. Did she go back on her word to ride with him? He faced forward just in time to feel a huge gush of wind.

Blair laughed as she emerged from the lining woods. Kicking her feet, she sped up, guiding the horse through the meadow. At the end of it, she pulled the animal to a dead stop.

Chuck slowed next to her. She was petting her horse's mane, smiling at him.

"Someone with your experience, or rather lack of it, should never ride through the woods at full speed," he told her, sounding flustered and out of breathe.

She directed her horse closer to him, so that they were parallel, but turned face to face. "Oh? Well then Your Highness, please do tell me how much I lack in experience?" she prompted with a mischievous grin.

"You're a woman," Chuck countered, nodding as if that said it all.

Blair scoffed, "And you're a man, and a rather arrogant one at that." She looked away from him, pursing her lips.

"You may even be more short tempered than I," he chuckled.

Her head snapped back and she glared at him. "At least I'm not—how you say? A self-absorbed ass!" she spat.

His laughter silenced and his brow furrowed. He grabbed her arm, yanking her towards him. "Do you know what I could have done to you for saying that to me?" Chuck threatened.

Blair's face fell and eyes widened. It was as if the prince transformed into the beast within a matter of seconds. Perhaps he was both.

She shook her head. "My father," she blurted.

Chuck's anger subdued to momentary confusion. "What?" he asked.

Blair nodded, "My—my father was the one who taught me how to ride."

"Oh," Chuck said. His hand let go of her and the darkness in his eyes brightened some. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need. You don't like to be teased. Now I know," Blair returned coolly.

He paused for a moment, but then played it off with a smirk "Not outside the bedroom, in fact."

"You are crude, Your Highness," Blair remarked, rolling her eyes.

He chuckled, "And you are amusing, Blair."

"Just amusing?" she asked, now serious. Her doe brown eyes looked up through thick lashes. One eyebrow rose and her rose red lips pouted ever so slightly.

Chuck's laughter halted and he found himself hooked in her gaze, as if someone put a spell on him. Finally, he managed to slowly shake his head. "No, much more than just amusing," he admitted. He felt he did so against his will, but compelled to do so at the same time.

Blair smiled softly, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted. Her eyes flickered to his jewels hanging just slightly crooked. She reached her hand out and straightened them. "There," she breathed.

Before she could take her hand away though, he took it briskly, but gently. Her eyes met his transfixed ones.

He took her hand and placed it on his cheek, closing his eyes.

"What are you doing, Chuck?" she asked carefully.

"I wanted to see how it felt to be touched," he explained, opening her eyes.

Blair smiled, "I find it hard to believe many women haven't touched you."

He chuckled lightly, but also in a bittersweet tone. "They have, but not like that," Chuck explained.

She gasped in a teasing manner. "Does this mean I am your first? My what an honor," Blair remarked in false astonishment, touching her chest.

He laughed fully then, shaking his head. "I doubt you get the deserved credit for you wit, Waldorf."

"Frowned upon by women and hated by men," she commented.

"Well not I," Chuck spoke up. "I enjoy it. Speak freely with me, always." He knew the permission he had just given was in no way proper or even heard of, but he didn't care.

"A woman can't even speak freely with her husband in the privacy of her home, Chuck," she told him.

He moved closer. "Well, you can with me," he clarified.

"I suppose you shall be the only one to see the real me then," Blair replied.

Chuck smirked, "It shall be my honor." He then moved closer, particularly his lips nearer to her lips.

Blair felt the control slipping away from her as Chuck inched closer. A shiver ran down her spine. Her eyes closed.

She pushed a hand to his chest and jerked away, playing it off with a laugh. "I didn't know you knew the meaning of the word."

Chuck clenched his fists and bit down hard on his tongue so he didn't snap at her. He then ran a frustrated hand through his dark hair.

Blair stared at Chuck when he didn't respond. Perhaps she should have let him kiss her, but she couldn't. She hadn't the proper grip on herself.

"Will I show you more of England then?" he asked, but did not make eye contact.

She felt the moment killed for him. "Perhaps we should just get back. It is nearly dinner time after all," Blair sighed.

He immediately looked at her. "You would rather go back there, to have dinner with your idiot fiancé, than stay with me?" Chuck scoffed, narrowing his eyes.

"I didn't say that. I was actually going to ask dinner be brought to my room," she returned, her voice much quieter than his.

"Are you not feeling well?" he asked, calming some.

She frowned, not seeing where he was going with this. "No, but what does that matter?" Blair questioned.

"Well if you are not ill, you can invite me then," her smirked "For dinner, of course."

"I will not sleep with you for a horse," Blair retorted. "And I could never invite you to my chambers—"

He chuckled, "Whoa there, I have no intention to buy you with a horse. I'm the Prince of England, I don't have to buy anyone." He then shrugged. "But if you shall not allow me in yours then I command you come to mine."

"Command?" she echoed skeptically.

He nodded, "Tell them you wish to turn in early. My guards will come and get you. They're good with delivering women…you for dinner."

Blair softened some and sighed. "Do I even have a choice in the matter?"

"What happened to wanting to please me?" he countered, amused.

"I got to know you," she returned playfully.

He laughed as her horse started to move forward. Then he stopped and called out to her. "Blair!"

She turned to face him. "What is it?" she asked.

He rode over to her and got very close. "I want you to know that when we are together I shall not remind myself that you are engaged to _him_," Chuck told her seriously.

She leaned in close, but passed his lips and whispered in his ear. "Good."

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Hampton Court, Surrey_

Nate got off his horse hastily, kicking a bucket in the stable, and then storming outside. He went right past the other men who were just now riding up. They laughed at him.

"Oh come on, Your Grace! Surely you can afford to lose one game, especially since His Highness was not at your side!" William called, shaking his head. He burst into sidesplitting laughter.

Edmund joined him, nodding. "Yes, surely His Grace is not such a poor sport! Thomas sure wasn't!"

"Be silent, all of you! I won't hear more of it!" Nate screamed, turning around to glare at them. He then kicked the dirt and headed back towards the castle at full speed.

The hunt had been even worse than he expected. Since he didn't have Chuck, he had to actually try. Edmund and William wouldn't let him win with Thomas on his team. He lost, having the lowest number of kills, other than Thomas, and wasn't happy about it. In fact, he was livid.

He came into the grand hall about to yell for a servant when the sound of female laughter stopped him. It wasn't just any girl's giggle, but a particular one. It was Lady Blair's. He narrowed his eyes, looking forward to see her walking with Chuck.

Blair caught sight of his gaze and the smile dropped from her face. She turned into Chuck some, saying something Nate could not hear or make out.

Chuck listened and then looked up. He smiled, but it wasn't the same as usual. "Nathaniel, how went the hunt?" he called out, nodding for his friend to approach them.

Nate marched right up to Chuck, ignoring Blair. He shook his head. "His Highness does not want to know. However, I would like to speak with him. In private," he emphasized, throwing a nasty glance her way.

Blair pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes.

"I am sure whatever you need to say can be said in front of Lady Blair. After all, there can't be many good reasons to dismiss one so beautiful as her," Chuck returned, throwing a smirk her way.

She quickly changed her expression for Chuck, smiling softly.

Nate scoffed, "I beg to differ."

Chuck's head snapped back and he glared. "Have you forgotten your place again, Nathaniel? Not to mention, you didn't even properly greet a future Princess of England before insulting her," he sneered.

"Perhaps she has forgotten her place as well. Or maybe you have," Nate retorted, before he could think about what he was saying. He was hot, irritated, tired, and angry.

Blair looked between the two men. She knew by the look on Chuck's face that he was about to explode. She didn't really want to help Nate, but there were others around at Court. She would rather they not see him defending her so passionately yet. She did not want people to think she was sleeping with him, calling her a whore behind her back.

"You men are so passionate, getting into silly arguments. I do not think I can stand another moment of it," Blair interrupted, teasingly. She touched Chuck's arm and giggled when he met her eyes.

Nate frowned, confused about what she was doing, but was sickened by it—even if it had saved his ass.

Chuck seemed to calm at her touch. He looked around, then back to her, and lowered his voice. "Fine, but I shall see you tonight?" he asked.

Blair nodded, "You shall." She then bowed lightly, let go of his hand, and walked away.

Chuck watched her go, admiring the way her hips swayed back and forth in such a seductive fashion. She didn't even have to try.

"You are seeing her tonight?" Nate asked, interrupting.

"Yes, not that it is any of your business," Chuck retorted, turning back to him. He wasn't ready to strike Nate as he had been before, but his anger began to return. He started to walk forward, making it so Nate had to keep up with him if he wanted to converse.

Nate smiled, "Well then, it shall soon be over. I am sure you will have no problem seeing Thomas have your mere leftovers—"

Chuck turned around, shoving him just enough to shut him up. "I have given you no permission to make speculations about what I shall do with Lady Blair tonight, nor are yours correct. Now I suggest you keep your mouth shut on the matters for if anyone finds out, I shall know who deceived me," Chuck seethed. His dark eyes threatened the man before him, his best friend.

Nate shook his head. "I would not deceive you. I am your friend. But she is—"

"She is of no concern to you. I did not ask for your opinion on Lady Blair, nor will I ever," Chuck concluded. He used a tone that even Nate knew never to talk back to.

He then turned and rolled his shoulders. "Now, leave me be. I am not in the mood for your tiring antics, Nathaniel," Chuck muttered.

Nate stared at his back for a few moments and then finally nodded. "Fine, Your Highness," he sighed. Then he bowed and left.

Chuck stood there for a few moments before motioning to a servant. He needed to contact the Royal Jewel Keeper before he had dinner with Blair.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck sat on a fur blanket by the fire, his back propped by the foot of his bed. His brow was furrowed as he tried to read through the Latin and original version of _Utopia_. Blair had read him it in English, but revealed she could read many other translations and how each was a little different with their interpretation. He wanted to be able to see what she meant, converse with her on it. However, the task seemed nearly impossible.

There was a knock at his door and he heard his guard's staff beat against the floor. As the man entered, he sat up some, and hid the book under a pillow. He nodded to the servant, signaling him to speak.

"Your Highness, your uh…nightly _visitor_ is here to see you," the guard announced. He wore an amused expression, not knowing who the girl was, but finding his master's entertainment quite enjoyable.

"Yes, of course. Send her in and leave us," Chuck ordered, nodding his head. He then stood and brushed his hands on his pants, trying to smooth them. He stopped shortly though when she entered the room.

Blair came inside Chuck's chambers, feeling the hair on the back of her neck go up. She was so nervous, despite all reasoning not to be. What if he decided he wanted to take her? She couldn't stop him. She would be at his mercy.

Her doe brown eyes drifted up to his. She wore a dark cloak, accompanied with a hood, which hid whom she was.

Chuck waited until they were alone, smirked, and moved closer. He circled around her slowly, wanting to make her anxious. Then he chuckled darkly, stopped in front of her, and untied her cloak. He gasped in awe as it fell to the ground, pooling at her feet.

"Good evening, Your Highness," Blair greeted, smiling coyly. She wore a white nightgown, it almost sheer. It hung off her shoulders, but dropped to the floor. She knew it was risky, but she needed to constantly throw him off his game, keep him interested. Otherwise he would toss her aside, just like every other maiden at court.

"Well—well, what do we have here?" Chuck remarked, shaking his head. He brought his hand up, fingering one of her dark curls. Then he let it drop and touched her chin, pushing it up some. He smirked, "Dressed for bed already?"

She scoffed, pushing his hand away, and shook her head. "Not yours, Chuck. I only thought you would want me comfortable. I am your guest for dinner. Am I not?" Blair teased.

He felt frustrated, but also intrigued further. He nodded, "Of course, Blair. Right this way." Chuck motioned to the indoor picnic, illuminated by the fire.

She sat down amongst many silk pillows, watching as he did the same across from her. Once he was situated, she reached forward for a glass of wine. This way she made sure he had a small glimpse of her cleavage line. It was short though, for she leaned back, and drank.

He watched her the entire time, transfixed by every movement. Then he picked up an apple and bit into it. He chewed, swallowed, and spoke. "I must say I expected you to send a maid in your place. Not many would be so daring, or trusting of me," Chuck remarked.

Blair giggled, "While I am daring, what makes you think I trust you? Perhaps I just came prepared for a fight."

He quirked an eyebrow, nodding for her to explain further. Then he watched as she reached into her nightgown and retrieved a small hunting knife. She set it down before him.

Chuck laughed, "You would gut the Prince of England? Do you have any idea what would be done to you with one yelp on my part, woman?"

She shrugged, "I suspected your guards would only think us playing…rough."

Her comment pleased him and he grinned. Then he bit into his apple one more time before putting it down. He leaned closer, putting the knife in his pocket. "I'll have you know that I am the one who likes to be rough in games," Chuck informed her.

Blair shook her head, laughed, and leaned back against the pillows. When she did though, she frowned, and felt something stick into her back. She sat up and reached behind, retrieving the object.

"Wait—" Chuck started to object, but she had already found the book.

"The Latin version of _Utopia_? You decided to read it?" Blair asked, looking up into his eyes. She couldn't help showing that she was pleasantly surprised. Sure their time in the carriage had been—different, but she still didn't think he had the capability to appreciate it.

He sighed, nodding. "I decided to take a gander at it. I am not quite finished though. My Latin studies…did not always go so well when I was a boy. I found them quite boring," Chuck admitted.

She smiled, liking that he had shared something with her that did not glorify him. Usually his ego would not allow it.

Chuck saw her smile and frowned. "You find this funny?" he spat.

Blair quickly shook her head. "No, not at all. I have already said I see you do not like to be teased, felt made fun of. This though," she spoke and looked to the book, "Is not easy for many to read, even Princes."

He relaxed once more and stood. Chuck moved to where she was and sat down beside her. He felt her stiffen for a moment, but then she calmed quickly. He turned pages and stopped about a quarter through the book. "I made it to here," he informed her.

She read over the page and nodded. "One of my favorite parts. Perhaps I should leave so you can properly enjoy it," she smiled.

He chuckled, "I assure you I could not enjoy it more than you—" Chuck stopped shortly; staring into her eyes, when he realized what he had let slip past his lips. "I meant to say that I—"

Blair cut him off once more, putting her finger to his lips. She smiled softly, moving closer, almost into his arms. Then she curved her hand around his cheek and caressed it.

Chuck remained silent, locked in her gaze. He felt his entire body warm at the feel of her mere touch. He wanted more, but he did not want to scare her off. But oh did he crave her. She was so innocent and untouched, but at the same time—something dark and sensual brewed beneath her surface.

"Kiss me, but only kiss me," Blair whispered. She knew it was giving him just enough control, but really maintaining almost all of it. "Embrasse-moi."

_(English Translation: "Kiss me")_

He sat for a moment and wondered if she had actually given him permission to kiss her. Then again, what did he care? He was the Prince of England. He didn't need permission. But then why did it feel so good to have it? He shook his head. What was he doing? He still hadn't kissed her.

Chuck closed his eyes and leaned in, pushing his lips against hers. His hand came up and tangled through her dark curls, pulling her closer. He didn't try to go further, but only deepened the kiss. He focused on it, her, and nothing else. Their chests heaved up and down against one another's.

Blair moaned against his lips, feeling herself melt. She couldn't believe how strong his lips were, how much his touch affected her. She relinquished some control she had fought so hard to keep. She kissed him back, for real.

Finally, Chuck pulled back. He saw her eyes were still closed and smirked. "I have a gift for you," he revealed.

"Wh—what?" Blair stuttered. She opened her eyes to frown. "Another one? What is it?" It was hard for her to get back on track.

He chuckled, "Even after a kiss like that you're still such a selfish creature. I suppose you can't help it though. Someone so beautiful should only feel so entitled."

She scoffed and tried to push against his chest. "Must you always insult me?" She was about to get up when her eyes caught onto something.

"Does this insult you?" Chuck asked. He held out a gold necklace, encrusted with green emeralds and pearls. He knew it caught her eye.

Blair touched the pendant, gasping. "How beautiful—" She shook her head and looked to him. "What do you expect me to give you for this?"

"Nothing," Chuck returned. He then smiled and had her sit up, lifted her hair, and brought the necklace to her neck. He fastened it.

"Chuck—" Blair started to say, but stopped when she felt his fingertips rake over the necklace and then her nape. He kissed her cheek.

"Something this beautiful deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty," he told her, lowering his voice to a sultry tone.

She touched her neck and felt his hand hold onto hers. Closing her eyes for a moment, she released a large breath. She had to stop. She couldn't let him pull her in like this. He probably did it with every girl he chased. She shook her head, opened her eyes, and turned to look at him.

"Thank you," she said shortly.

Chuck wasn't insulted by it, but entertained. He liked that she tried to hard to resist him. He certainly couldn't get bored with her doing so. So he released his hold on her and went back to eating as if nothing had happened.

Blair stared at him for a few moments and hesitantly picked up a strawberry. She chewed on it, but found her focus on him. "I—I should return to my chambers before someone notices I am gone," she stuttered.

He stopped eating, pursing his lips. He wasn't sure where he wanted the night to go, but he hadn't wanted it to end. His craving for her had been fed some, but now that she wanted to leave—he felt once more deprived. He was aggravated… and frustrated.

She reached out a hand and touched his back. "Chuck, it is not that I want to leave, but that I am afraid my mother will—"

"Go if you want. You are here at your will after all," Chuck retorted. He stood up hastily and walked across the room, biting down on his knuckles.

She pouted, seeing she had angered him. Still though, she glanced at the clock, sighed, and rose. She searched her mind for another excuse she could make, but gave up.

Blair bowed, "Bonne nuit, Votre Altesse." She turned and left.

_(English Translation: "Goodnight, Your Highness")_

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Blair moaned in her sleep and rolled over, towards the center of the bed. She pulled at her covers, but frowned when she smacked into something. Her eyes flew open, greatly alarmed, and then she saw it was Chuck. She sat up and looked down at him confused.

"What are you doing in my bed, Your Highness?" Blair asked. She wanted to sound startled and almost frightened; even though she felt in fact thrilled he had come.

Chuck sat up, his eyes locked in a gaze with her own, and he leaned towards her. He shook his head, "I dreamt of you. I always dream of you now. Tell me why." His voice was demanding, but soft. He wasn't angry, but just wanted to know the answer. He always got an answer.

Blair smiled softly and pulled the covers up around her chest. She turned forward, eyes with the fire he must have had lit again when he arrived. "I do not know. Perhaps it is a sign," she suggested, tone prolonged.

He did not respond, but instead placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. The smell of her skin was heavenly. She looked just as beautiful as she did when he slept and she invaded his mind. He woke up breathing heavily, scaring his servants to death at times, but he didn't care. He only seemed to care about her, to want to get to her, to have her.

"I should have you locked in my chambers and kept as my prisoner," Chuck whispered wickedly. He traced his hand down the curve of her spine, loving the feel of her shivering beneath his fingertips.

Blair closed her eyes and relished at his touch. Then she shook her head, speaking next to tease him. "You lack the conviction," she returned.

"I lack nothing," Chuck retorted. He grabbed hold of her arm and forced her to turn and look at him. "I am the Prince and sole heir of England. Everything I want is mine."

Blair stared at him for a few moments. She moved closer as if to kiss his lips, but then pulled back. "Do you want me?" she asked, eyebrows kinking.

Chuck nodded and kissed her. His forehead pressed against hers and he spoke in a breathless voice. "I want to possess you in every way possible, Blair." He reached his hand up and pulled down the covers so that her breasts were revealed.

"Take me as you wish, my Prince," Blair purred. She then held onto him as he buried his face into her breasts and suckled upward to her neck.

He lowered her onto the bed and his body came over her. Chuck found himself instantly trapped, needing her more by the second. He didn't know why he couldn't break his addiction, but only that he was sick of trying to. She was there for the taking and saying he could take her.

"Wait," Blair said suddenly, pushing a hand to his chest.

Chuck groaned, restraining himself, and lifting his head to meet her eyes. "What is it now? What do you want?" he rasped. At that point he felt himself willing to sacrifice his entire Kingdom for her.

She put her hands on his chest, raked her fingers through the hair. Her eyes studied her motions for a few moments and then brown met brown. "If you take me now, I am only yours for the night. That, and you may not release yourself within me. I will not become with child unless the person planting their seed in me is my husband," Blair informed him. She spoke with a sense of power.

He pursed his lips and his own grip on her tightened. He did not like anyone, but especially her telling him what he could or couldn't do. He was the Prince of England. He could do anything or anyone he wanted.

"You mean you will not allow me in your bed again, even if I command it?" Chuck asked tersely. His dark eyes were turning into pools of deep black water. He was losing his patience with her.

"While I could not stop you, it would not be with my permission," Blair returned with a sigh. It wasn't that she didn't think he was capable of taking her against her will, but something told her he wouldn't. Hopefully, for her sake, she was right.

He pushed himself up off her hastily and got off the bed. His eyes narrowed to glare down at her and he pushed the lamp off her night table. She winced when it shattered to the floor, but kept her eyes from him. This only irritated him more though.

"How am I to win with you, to win you? So far I have given you anything and everything you ask of me! It is not even me leading with blind affection, but you calling me to you, pulling me in!" Chuck accused, motioning his hands dramatically in her direction.

Blair sat up in her bed and crossed her arms. She shook her head. "Perhaps I am not a prize you can win, not rightfully at least," she muttered.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, your engagement to Thomas! How could I have forgotten it?" Chuck then lifted his foot and kicked an empty chair, usually reserved for a maid, across the room. "Look at me when I am talking to you!" he screamed.

"Of course, Your Highness. Forgive me," Blair said calmly, turning to meet his eyes. She kept a seemingly emotionless mask as her countenance.

Chuck scoffed, "Forgive you? Forgive you? How can I forgive you for what you've done to me, what you're doing to me? You let me have so little, but it is just enough for me to want more! Never am I fully satisfied, never!"

"You very well could be, but it is you who will not take me now. It is as if you are afraid that once you have what you think shall end it all, taking me, you will still want more. Or is that it, _Chuck_? Are you scared that your desire for me will not end with simply putting yourself between my legs?" Blair asked, taunting him with her eyes and voice. This was what it would come down to.

He stared at her, his chest heaving up and down. His hands fell to his sides and slowly he made his way towards her. He sat down by her knees and stroked his hand up her leg, curving in at her thighs. His fingertips rubbed very close to her center. He felt her burning skin, the way she tingled.

"Seems to me like I'm not the only one wanting more. I've felt many cunts in my time, but yours is the warmest," Chuck stated in the most vulgar of fashions. It was his defense system. Her words had figured him out, gotten down to the core, so now he wanted to sway her away from her reason—the only way he knew how to with a woman.

Blair didn't say anything, she couldn't. Never before had a man's hand, or even her own, been so close to her true place of femininity. She bit her bottom lip, unable to breathe, and leaned back more into her pillows.

Chuck followed her movements, coming over her once more. He traced his fingertips over the lining of her folds. "What do you want from me, Blair? Is it loyalty, being my one and only?" he asked.

"Don't mock me," Blair warned. Her eyes sparked with the fire that he knew brimmed beneath her surface more than anyone. She shook her head.

"I'm not," Chuck said honestly. He then curved his forefinger inside of her, but his facial expression did not change.

She gasped though, closing her eyes.

He leaned in, kissing her neck. "Be my mistress. I never saw the point in taking one, seeing as I only wanted a mere taste of everyone, but you've changed my mind. I promise we'd only share each other's beds," Chuck whispered.

Blair opened her eyes, looking into his, and shook her head. "No—no, that would not be true. I could never only be yours. I would be sleeping with my husband, birthing him sons," she told him.

Chuck's hand clenched tightly inside of her, causing her to cry out in slight pain. He yanked her against him with his other. "Don't say things like that in my presence. It makes me want to draw blood," he spat.

"You're about to," Blair retorted. She tried to pull away from him, but found him began to pump his finger inside of her. She gripped onto him, whimpering under her breath, as she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

"This game never has to end if I don't want it to," Chuck informed her, nodding his head. He quickened his words, as well as his driving digits, and her pulse.

She sounded as if she were crying when she spoke next. "You are wrong. I—I shall end it if I marry Thomas," Blair managed.

"If you marry Thomas?" he asked, eyebrows rising. He curled his thumb inside of her and held it in place, so tight that it was almost harsh. He forced her eyes open when using his free hand to hold her neck.

She gripped on tightly to his chest hair. "Perhaps you don't want me to. Perhaps if you think about it, you have an alternative buried deep in your mind, but your pride will not allow you to speak it," Blair whispered.

Chuck stared at her silently for a few moments and then began to stroke her center harder and faster than ever before. He smirked as she fell back onto her pillows fully, completely at his mercy. He came over her.

"Keep your maidenhead for now. I will have it though, now that I see what you want." Chuck leaned in closer and nipped at her ear. "You want me, don't you?" he rasped, feeling the fluttering in his stomach explode.

Blair didn't answer with words, but instead cried out in pure ecstasy. Her pupils dilated and she twitched on her pillows. Her hands came up and tore threw her long dark curls, rubbing her temples.

He chuckled darkly, retracted his hand, and kissed her forehead. "Doesn't feel so good does it?" Chuck taunted. He recalled how he had already tried so many times to pretend he felt her full satisfaction, but couldn't create it. In a way, he had been generous in giving her his actual touch.

She didn't say anything, but turned her cheek. Her eyes fixated into a glare at the wall. Never before had anyone infuriated, flustered, and relieved her all at once.

He brought his hand up to stroke her cheek. "This game is far from over, Blair. In fact, it's just beginning," Chuck informed her. A smug smirk was plastered on his lips.

Blair rolled fully onto her back and stared up into his eyes. She felt him lower his body onto hers and closed her eyes as he captured her lips in the most passionate of kisses.

He nuzzled his cheek against hers, finishing up, and pulled back. "Sleep well, Sweetheart," Chuck breathed. Then he winked at her, got up, and left.

She knew she wouldn't get a wink of sleep that night.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: Sorry this took so long to update, but I am finally done with high school! Anyways hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know. The affair has officially started. And as always special thanks to my beta and translator. Couldn't do it without them!


	7. Shadow Over England

Chapter Seven:

**Shadow Over England**

_Whitehall Palace, London _

Blair walked along in the gardens, staring out to the iron gates surrounding the palace. When she was in France, she was free to go as she pleased. If she wanted to go to the city, she didn't even have to ask. Her mother had never paid too much attention, after all. However, in England things were different. Since she was engaged to Thomas, a future Prince of England, many kept a close eye on her. It was suffocating and exhausting.

"Lady Blair, would you not like to go inside? The sun is shining down so harshly today," her maid complained, whining from a few steps behind.

"No, I would not like to go inside. I can't likely breathe in there," Blair retorted.

The girls both made noises equal to complaints.

Blair rolled her eyes and stopped by a tree, motioning to the stone bench beneath it. "Go on then, if you feel you shall faint though."

Her maids looked to each other in relief and hurried to sit down. They were fanning each other dramatically, acting quite silly for all to see.

Blair did her best to ignore them so she wouldn't become too irritated and yell. So she walked a few paces away from them, crossing her arms.

"Lady Blair, how are—"

She turned to see who had started to speak with her and stopped abruptly. Two young men from court were headed her way. One was looking quite nervous, his friend saying something urgently in his ear. She frowned, not understanding what was going on.

"Your Grace, did you say something?" Blair asked as they neared.

The man stopped, keeping his eyes from hers. He shook his head and acted as if shamed.

"No, my Lady. Forgive me for disturbing you," he said quietly. Then he and the other man bowed their heads before going on their way.

"Wait, you did not disturb me," Blair started to call, turning around. She saw they had left as quickly as they came though.

"Qu'est-ce que Ã ça veut dire?" she wondered, shaking her head.

_(English Translation: "What was that about?")_

"The men seem scared to talk to you, my Lady," her maid giggled, holding hands with the other one. They apparently thought to share a joke.

Blair narrowed her eyes and came closer to them. "Why would they be scared of me? Both those gentlemen back there are dukes. They are of much higher rank," she stated plainly.

The other girl shrugged, grinning. "I do not know, my Lady. Perhaps your Royal stalker has something to do with it," she laughed.

"Mary," the other scolded, grabbing her. "You could lose your head for speaking like that—"

"Shut up, both of you," Blair ordered, highly annoyed. She began to turn away from them, but stopped when she saw what Mary had meant.

Across the courtyard, Chuck leaned up against the wall. He was standing with a few of his mates, but kept a fierce eye on her. It was as if he was watching to see if she did something she wasn't supposed to.

Blair bowed her head, but her expression made it known she was not in a happy. It was a signal for him to come to her. He may have been the Prince of England, but if he didn't want her to refuse to see him the rest of the day, then he would approach her when she wanted him to.

Chuck said something to Nate who turned to glare at her. But thankfully his friend stayed behind and Chuck came across the grass, towards Blair. He stopped before her and smirked. "Lady Blair."

She put her hands on her hips and ruby lips pursed. "Do you mind telling me why those men seemed to find such fear in merely greeting me?" Blair asked, taking on a sassy tone.

He chuckled, "Why would any man in his right mind want to put himself in such danger? I sure wouldn't." He took a step closer to her and pretended to admire the broach she wore. They both knew what he was really _appreciating_.

Blair scoffed, "You can't put out a claim on me. I am not your wife, fiancée, or even your mistress. Or do you not recall the other night?"

He met her eyes again and then fingered one of her curls. "I am sure you still do." He grinned in a sinister fashion, releasing her hair. "As for this said claim, if I wanted to—I'm the Prince of England. I need no rhyme or reason for what I order, only others should know to obey it."

She moved closer, quirking her left eyebrow. "Oh? And if such an order exist, what exactly would it be?" Blair asked condescendingly. Really though, it took all she had not to show how delighted she was over the matter.

Chuck's expression took on a serious tone and he took hold of her arm, pulling her against his chest.

"I don't like others touching what's mine," he told her.

Blair felt a fluttering in her stomach. She leaned onto him some. She knew it was wrong that a part of her liked him being so possessive, but she told herself it wasn't. Logically, if she wanted him to fall for her then this was something she should be happy about.

She finally regained her composure and put on a coy smile. "Well, if you want to be able to call something—or rather someone yours, than perhaps you ought to spend more time with them," Blair hinted. She nodded to Nate and the other men he had been previously with.

Chuck looked back at them and then to her. His features softened some. "Tell me what you want, _sweetheart_," he smirked. His voice was partly patronizing, but he did intend to give her what she desired.

Blair smiled, knowing she had his full attention. She stroked her hands down his chest and lifted her eyes to his. "I want to get away from this place, if only for a little while," she requested.

He took her hands from his chest and held them between their bodies, where no one watching could see. "Where would you like to go, Blair? I haven't got all day to figure what you're thinking," Chuck informed her, though he sounded with amusement. It was hard to get upset with her in certain ways.

She dropped the innocent look and spoke plainly. "Fine. I would like to go into town. We're back in London after all. Surely his Highness could arrange it."

"His Highness can only arrange it if you call him by the name he's requested," he returned.

Blair sighed, "Please, Chuck." She pouted her lips and held on tighter to him. The more he gave into her, the more power she had over him—and if she enjoyed herself along the way, well that would be a bonus of some sort.

Chuck stared at her for a few moments and then smirked. "Of course. We shall go at once," he told her. He held out his hand and spoke with a teasing formality.

"Lady Blair?"

"Thank you, your Highness." Blair played right along. She held onto his arm, allowing him to escort her through the courtyard, and smiled proudly to anyone they passed.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

"Make sure there is something to give Lady Blair shade from the sun. She has a delicate complexion, which should not be damaged," Chuck proclaimed, giving a stern nod to the group of servants. He was watching them set up the open carriage while Blair dressed in something cooler for their trip to the city. He wanted her to be _comfortable_, so they could be even more _comfortable_.

"Your Majesty."

Chuck turned when he heard several people greeting his father. He saw Bart coming across the way, towards him. If it wouldn't cause such uproar, he'd turn away from him. He hadn't spoken much with his father since Bart sent Jack away. Quite frankly, he didn't wish to either.

"Charles, what is this?" Bart asked, standing before him. He motioned to the carriage being set up.

Chuck bowed, "Just a day trip to London, your Majesty. Your prince shall be back before dinner, not to worry."

Bart nodded, looking around, and then stepped closer so they could speak more privately. He stared down at his son. "I have heard you were conversing rather closely with Lady Blair this afternoon. Is this true?" he asked.

"I am sure whomever you have watching me has not lied, father," Chuck retorted. He sounded with clear disgust, shaking his head.

Bart sighed, "It does not matter how I found out or who told me. Now, I asked you a question. Answer me." He took on a more demanding tone.

Chuck backed away from him some, but nodded. "I am taking her out to see London. I am sure that is why you came to see me now," he remarked.

Bart did not respond to his accusation, but instead stood back in a formal manner. "You shall take Thomas and Nathaniel with you. I am sure you would rather have them than guards," he ordered, both of them knowing it was not an actual suggestion.

His eyes narrowed, but Chuck was quick to bite his tongue. He forced a smile through clenched teeth. "Of course, father."

Bart nodded, "Very well. Enjoy yourself then. The others shall be down shortly." With that, he walked past his son, not even waiting for a bow. He was only glad Chuck had not caused yet another scene. He also hoped with Thomas along for the ride, he would not cause one with Lady Blair that afternoon.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck looked beside him, where Blair sat in the carriage. She hard her arms crossed, lips pursed, and a clear glare set towards Thomas and the others who assembled in the carriage. He found her disdain for her fiancé amusing and didn't try to hide his snide smirk. Instead he touched her shoulder, causing her to turn and meet his eyes.

"Don't waste your frowns on them. You'll get wrinkles," Chuck told her. He winked at her, chuckling some, as he touched her cheek. Then he reclined back in his seat, his arm slipping casually around her back.

Thomas smiled at Blair, but she only stared back at him.

"Thomas," Nate called. He held onto the hands of two girls, first helping them inside, and then climbing in himself. They sat on each side of him, causing one to be between him and Thomas. Still, everyone noticed Chuck and Blair were rather secluded.

"What is it, Your Grace?" Thomas asked, remaining proper.

Nate chuckled, "Told you he was a gentlemen, ladies. Thomas, this is Lady Penelope and Lady Hazel. They're both admirable woman at court. In fact, the Prince _knows_ them awfully well." He looked to Chuck, but more so Blair, grinning.

Blair's eyes widened some and nostrils flared. Then she shook her head, scoffed, and turned away from Chuck some.

"Nathaniel likes to exaggerate. You must forgive me, Ladies—for I cannot remember you," Chuck interjected, warning in his tone. He then rubbed Blair's arm some until she turned into him once more.

"Well all the same, it is a pleasure to meet you both," Thomas said. He bowed his head to each of them.

"As it is to meet you, your Lordship," Hazel replied. Penelope only smiled, concentrating more on getting closer to Nate. The blonde then turned to Blair, shaking her head.

"And of course, I am pleased to meet his future bride. Oh wait, should I ask how this is said in French so she can understand?" Hazel played dumb, looking to the others.

"Je parle Anglais, connard," Blair replied with a condescending smile.

_(English Translation: "I speak English, you twat.")_

Chuck snorted a laugh and Thomas blushed.

Penelope frowned, "What did she say? Our mothers refused to teach us French. We learned Italian instead."

"She said it is a pleasure to meet you both," Chuck told them, chuckling more so to himself. He was even more pleased when Blair added a giggle.

Penelope and Hazel were both satisfied enough and turned to speak with Thomas and Nate. The carriage entered town, many people stopping their work to bow as they passed by.

"I thought we were going to be alone," Blair remarked. She moved closer to Chuck and spoke at a lower tone so the others could not hear.

He reached his hand up, tucking a curl behind her ear. "We will be next time. I promise," Chuck assured her.

She scoffed, "A lot of good your promises do. I suppose there's a reason honor is spoken of with knights and not princes."

He smirked, "You're one to talk. If I haven't got any honor than neither do you. We're the same, Blair."

Blair rolled her eyes and turned forward, crossing her arms. "Well I was not lying when I said I wanted to be alone with you. Evidently though, you were," she proclaimed, nodding her head.

Chuck's smirk stretched even clearer across his face. He touched her leg and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You know how much I enjoy being alone with you, Blair."

She rolled her eyes and turned her cheek to look at the city they were passing. That was when she saw it happen. The carriage rode right by it, crowds gathered to cover up the scene, but that didn't mean Blair would forget it and go on.

"Stop the carriage!" Blair screamed suddenly, standing up. Penelope and Hazel both jumped and the men looked to her, alarmed. She ignored all of them though, pushing open the door.

"Blair!" Chuck shouted, trying to grab onto her as she got out. Several people looked to him, questioning the informal way he addressed her. He just glared back at them though and followed her out, Thomas chasing after him.

Nate watched both men chasing after Blair. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. His friend was now literally chasing after that French—

"Nate, can't we go get something to drink?" Penelope asked, touching his chest. She smiled seductively. "I'm sure we can find someone to bring us back…later."

His eyebrows rose and then he smiled. "Of course, Penelope. After you," he offered. They both left the carriage. Well, at least the day wouldn't be all bad.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Blair had been staring forward and saw a basket of kittens in the market place. Most of them were white and orange with small specks of black. However, there was a very small one with black fur that had hints of orange in it. A shop man had picked it up by its neck and was about to toss it aside.

"Get out of my way!" she yelled, pushing past people. She was causing quite the uproar, but got to the man just in time. "What do you think you are doing?"

The man glared at her. "Throwing out the evil runt of the litter. He's black, girl. Don't you know anything?" he spat.

"Well I have better eyesight than you. The poor thing has orange in him too, but if you won't keep him then give him to me," Blair demanded. She took the kitten from his hands before he could even object. Her hands cradled the small animal to her chest and she kissed the top of its head. She had always loved cats. Her father bought one for her when she was a little girl, but when he left—her mother had gotten rid of it.

Chuck and Thomas ran up to Blair. The man and several others instantly dropped to their knees, bowing their heads.

"Your Highness," the shopkeeper breathed.

"Why were you yelling at the lady?" Chuck asked. He circled the man, glaring down at him.

The shopkeeper shook his head. "I did not realize her rank, Your Highness. But she has picked up a black cat. I had means to get rid of it," he explained.

Blair held the kitten closer to her and saw everyone looking at her, particularly Thomas and Chuck. "He's not all black," she maintained.

Thomas took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Dear, put the cat down. It's dirty. You shouldn't be near it," he stuttered. He was having a hard time ordering her to do something, but he felt the need. He didn't want people talking about her.

"Non," Blair retorted. She then looked to Chuck, pouting her lips.

Chuck glanced around and then went closer to the shopkeeper. He took out a bag of gold coins and dropped it at his feet. "We'll take the kitten. Now apologize to the Lady so we can leave," he ordered.

The man looked shocked, but nodded. "Ye—yes, Your Highness. Forgive me, my Lady," he breathed.

Blair smirked, kissing the top of the kitten's head again. She walked past a humiliated Thomas, straight to Chuck. He put his arm around her and they made their way back to the carriage. People didn't even wait until they left to start whispering.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Blair entered the room, gazing at the roaring fire. His room was the warmest in the entire castle and that was good, especially on such a cold night in England. She had come to see him because she wanted to show him she appreciated the small kitten she now held in her arms. Really she wanted to set the guidelines for their… _relationship_.

Chuck was reclined on his bed, atop a mound of fur blankets. He was overlooking some jewels, shifting them back and forth, as he sipped a glass of red wine.

She wondered if he knew she was in the room.

"Are you to stand in my doorway all night or shall you come keep me company?" Chuck asked. He lifted his head, meeting her eyes.

Blair smirked and swayed her hips back and forth seductively as she approached the bed. She sat down beside him, putting the kitten in her lap, and kissed Chuck's neck.

He chuckled darkly, petting the kitten. "We caused quite the spectacle in town today. Many at court are talking," Chuck mused.

She pulled back, meeting his eyes. "Let them talk. What can they do? You're the Prince of England, after all. And they have no proof of anything," Blair returned.

"I know that. You're forgetting that it wouldn't matter to me if they did." He reached his hand up and tucked a dark curl behind her ear, then caressing her cheek. "Nothing's going to keep me away from you," he breathed.

Blair smiled, it actually being genuine. She blushed and looked down. Chuck pulled her close, kissing her neck. She stiffened some, worried about how far he would try to take it. She couldn't give it up yet. Even if she wanted to be Queen, she just couldn't—

"Relax, Blair. I just want to touch you," Chuck whispered. He felt her calm in his arms and lowered her to her back. Then he carefully placed the kitten aside and got on top of her. He began to kiss her again, allowing his hands to roam all over her perfect body.

"Chuck," Blair breathed. When he didn't stop or seem to hear her, she pushed lightly on his chest. "Chuck, wait."

He sighed and pulled back, meeting her eyes. "What is it, Sweetheart?" Chuck asked. He stroked his thumb down her chest.

"Do you do this with all the maidens at Court?" she asked. Her doe brown eyes read innocent and she was partly, but not entirely.

He smirked, "You mean buying them kittens, dresses, and jewels? Or perhaps you mean these meetings of ours, where I'm at least half a gentleman?"

Blair pouted, "Don't play with me."

"I'm not," Chuck returned seriously.

She smiled, feeling control slipping from her again. But she didn't even try to stop him when he bent down to kiss her again. She'd never admit it, but deep down, Blair wanted him to.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Nate returned to Court rather late. He noticed people were acting different, but no one seemed to want to talk to him. At the least, he got bits and pieces. He had heard Chuck had rejected a very Chuck-like gift from the Earl of Cambridge. Apparently though, he had done something even more outrageous that people would not gossip to him about. They knew Nate was the closest to him and would not risk telling him something that could get back to the Prince. So Nate thought he would go to Chuck, himself.

"Duke Archibald," the servant announced and then bowed his head and closed the doors.

Nate entered Chuck's bedroom with a lighthearted smile. It fell though when he realized they would not be alone.

Chuck sat on his bed by the fire like a King. At his side though Blair hung off of his shoulder. She was stroking his chest while holding up the wine glass to his lips. She had on a white nightgown, but it hung of her shoulders and dark curls spilled down her back. She was smiling coyly even as she turned to face Nate.

"Nathaniel," Chuck smiled, "What brings you to my chambers at such a late hour?"

"Hello Chuck," Nate bowed and then answered, "I actually came to see why you had not accepted your gift from the Earl of Cambridge."

Blair rolled her eyes and rested her chin on Chuck's shoulder. She then stroked his cheek to distract him.

It worked and Chuck turned towards her. He smirked and took hold of her hand. Kissing her knuckles he lowered it to hold in his lap. Then he turned back to Nate and shook his head.

"It would be an insult to the crown if I were to accept a room full of prostitutes from someone so low in rank," Chuck explained, voice serious.

Nate looked from Chuck to a smirking Blair. He scoffed, "That never stopped you before."

"I have all I need here. That being said, why have you not greeted Lady Blair?" Chuck asked tersely, eyebrows rising.

Nate hesitated for a moment and then finally bowed his head. "Lady Blair," he greeted though sounding insulted. Her parents may have been a Duke and Duchess, but until marriage she still fell lower in rank than him.

"Nate," Blair returned casually with a giggle. She then looked around the room. "Shadow?" she called.

Nate frowned, "Shadow?"

Suddenly a hiss was heard. Nate screamed as something small and black came out from under the bed and clawed into his legs. He looked down to see it was a cat.

"Bloody animal!" Nate screamed.

"Stop!" Blair shouted in horror. She jumped off the bed and grabbed the kitten, holding it to her chest. "How dare you!" She glared at Nate.

Nate scoffed, "How dare I?" He shook his head. "You—"

"Nathaniel!" Chuck warned. He shook his head at his friend and then held out his hand. "Blair?"

Blair smiled instantly and took her place beside Chuck, but with Shadow now in her lap.

"She has a black cat?" Nate asked, completely shocked.

"Chuck got him for me," Blair answered with a smug grin. She then stroked the kitten as it purred under her hand, completely sweet.

"Not entirely," Chuck said, reconnecting his eyes with his friends. He then sighed, "If you have said what you came here for then please take your leave. I'm tired."

Blair took her hand from the kitten and stroked back some of Chuck's hair. She kissed his cheek sensually.

Nate stood back, acting some appalled. He then shook his head, "Fine. Perhaps we can speak in _private_ in the morning then."

Chuck looked from Blair to him, but if he had not heard what Nate said. So he simply nodded and showed him off with his hand before coming back to Blair.

Nate watched Chuck pull her into a kiss. Then he rolled his eyes and left, doors slamming behind him that caused the servants to gasp.

XOXOXOXOXO

A/N: So I'm not too proud of this chapter. While writing it, I felt it wasn't that great. Anyways, let me know.

P.S. Pictures of the kitten, Shadow, are on my profile.


	8. Royal Roughness

Chapter Eight:

**Royal Roughness**

_Surrey, England_

"I was quite delighted that you agreed to go for a ride with me, Lady Blair," Thomas declared, turning to smile at her. They rode through the woods in Surrey, well the parts of them under Royal surveillance.

Blair kept her face forward, eyes following the ground as her horse moved. They had been doing this for about an hour and she couldn't be more bored. Her mother had made her go with Thomas. Whether he had done it intentionally or not, he had asked Blair to accompany him in front of Eleanor. Her mother instantly accepted the offer for her.

Thomas frowned, noting that she did not respond. It wasn't the first instance either. His fiancée had been quite distant since the moment they took off. He guided his horse closer to hers, so that their legs brushed against one another's. Then he blushed, shaking his head. "Forgive me."

Something grazed against her leg and she realized it was Thomas upon hearing him. Blair looked up, over at him for mere seconds. "It was only a touch, Thomas. There's no need to upset yourself over it," she assured him.

He grinned with a newfound sense of joy. "You have addressed me by my Christian name. I did not know we were so comfortable with one another. Though it does please me so," he explained.

She bit her tongue, holding in the instant reply that came to her mind. It was that she had grown used to using Christian names with Chuck, instead of formal titles. Well she supposed there was no going back now. She couldn't very well explain without great question as to why she addressed the prince so informally.

Thomas noticed the halt in conversation and worked to once more keep it going. He cleared his throat. "I know that you are aware of your beauty, Blair—"

"That I am," Blair agreed, looking to him. He smiled, starting to chuckle at her response, and with great surprise she found herself laughing along with him. She nodded, gesturing forward. "Well do go on, Thomas."

He found himself flustered for a moment, but then recuperated. "I was only going to tell you that I agree and think it is good you have kept your French sense of style. I know you are to be a Princess of England, but one should always remember their roots," he clarified.

She scoffed, "Until the country you're rooted to goes to war with the new one." She couldn't help her sharp tongue. Her loyalty would always be to France and she'd never be fully happy anywhere else.

Thomas's eyes fell for a moment. He lowered his voice. "France and England are in a good place right now, thanks to us in a way. We should just hope for the best, Blair," he encouraged. He made his best attempts to meet her eyes.

Blair pursed her ruby lips into a pout. She shook her head. "That's your way of saying if England goes to war with France, I'll be expected to show loyalty to England with everything—including my way of dress," she protested.

He sat up; some disturbed by her blunt speak. "You're a lady. We shouldn't discuss such matters in this setting," he denied.

"I will always love France, Thomas. It's my home. England isn't," Blair continued. She stopped her horse and turned to stare him straight in the face. "You do understand that. Do you not?" Her eyebrows rose in question.

Thomas shook his head, closing his eyes. "We will not confer about this. The heat is getting to your head, making you say improper things," he maintained.

Blair was about to further protest when they were suddenly interrupted.

"Well what a surprise! We have found his Lordship and Lady Blair off together in the woods. Quite the scandal," Edmund called, his voice teasing them. He and William rode up on their horses to the couple.

She smiled at them, but quickly hid it when Thomas looked to her. She bowed her head. "Good afternoon," she greeted.

William smirked, "I am surprised you got Lady Blair out here without a chaperone, your Lordship. It could cause some to talk." He eyed Blair, circling his horse around them.

Thomas watched his movements and then shook his head. "I gave her mother my honorable word. And we are in watched woods. As you see, there is nothing abnormal or indecent about the situation," he defended.

"Aye. Even less so now that we have arrived. You of course wouldn't mind if we joined you?" Edmund replied.

Blair frowned, wondering what they were up to. She knew that none of Chuck's friends enjoyed Thomas's company. Why would they offer up their afternoon to him, even if she were present?

Thomas was instantly disappointed. He had liked to have his time alone with Blair. He shook his head. "Actually, we were—"

"The Prince insisted we accompany you…for safety of course," William cut in. He spoke to Thomas, but his eyes met Blair's. They held an underlying meaning they both knew she would understand.

Blair cocked her head to the side some, smirking. She realized what was going on. Chuck was having them watched, spied on. It was amusing really. She had found he was quite jealous when it came to other men, but with Thomas? She thought the Prince knew of her disdain for her fiancé.

Thomas sighed, "Oh well if the Prince insists upon it. We must listen." He looked to Blair to make sure she was okay with it. He found her not paying attention though.

William rode his horse next to Blair's. He reached out a hand, touching the animal's back. "Your stallion needs water, Lady Blair. There is a creek just a little whiles over. Shall I accompany you to it?" he asked, keeping a strong eye contact with her.

She frowned, not first understanding. Her horse was fine.

"I am sure I can take her," Thomas interjected.

Edmund shook his head, quickly cutting in. "No, your Lordship. I must interrupt and say we should stay here. It would not be proper to allow you to go off alone with she who you are to be wed to," he declined.

Thomas nodded, "Oh. Yes, that is proper etiquette. Sweetheart, shall you be alright?"

Blair winced at the pet name coming from his lips. She didn't care what William wanted now. She just wanted to get away from her fiancé. She nodded, "I shall be fine, your Lordship. Let us go, William."

"Very well, my Lady," William grinned. He then rode ahead, leading the way.

Blair followed, not even looking back to wave goodbye to Thomas.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck hopped off his horse, bending down to reach into the creek and retrieve some water. He washed it on his face, wiping the sweat off his brow. It wasn't the nicest day for a ride. Leave it to Thomas to drag Blair's delicate skin out into the sun at the worst time possible. He rose and kicked his feet at the dirt, scoffing. But why had she accepted such an offer in the first place? He crossed his arms, pursing his lips. Then he heard them coming through the woods. His eyes rose.

Blair followed William to the stream, her horse just a few paces behind his. She was going to ask him why he seemed to think her horse needed water, but hadn't wanted Thomas to hear. They must have been a while away from him now though. She sighed, reaching a hand up to adjust her hat.

"You shouldn't be out when the bloody sun is beating down like this."

She froze for a moment, wondering if she was hearing things. Then she looked up, eyes widening.

Chuck came towards her, guiding her horse to the stream so it could drink. He nodded at her. "Go on and get down then," he ordered.

Blair took hold of his hand and allowed him to help her. She smiled, kissing him quickly on the lips. She wasn't sure what had come over her when she did it, but there was no going back now.

He smirked, finishing the kiss, and resting his forehead against hers. "I knew you'd be happy to see me," he mused. His voice was a low, rustic tone.

She pulled back from him giggling. "You came out all the way into the woods to find me? What an honor," she mused. Her fingertip brushed against his chest before she pulled away quickly.

Chuck watched her with a smile and then nodded to William. "Go and watch for the idiot. I do not want to be disturbed," he directed.

"Yes, your Highness," William agreed instantly. He then gave a small bow before riding off, leaving the couple alone.

Blair turned back around, shrugging out of her hot riding coat and letting it drop to the floor. She knew she must look a mess. Her breasts were sweating and now visible. She brushed at them.

"Allow me," Chuck chuckled. He held up his handkerchief and came to her, patting at them. "They clearly don't like to be contained." He licked his lips, eying them.

She pushed at his chest, scoffing. "Do not gawk at me like that. You make me feel as if I'm a piece of meat or animal," she retorted.

He smirked, putting that handkerchief in his pocket. "Are they not the same? Animals become meat, which we eat...and I know I'd love to have a taste of you," he mused seductively, coming towards her once more.

Blair backed herself into a tree, feeling his front press against her. She shook her head. "My maidenhead will be given to my husband, Chuck. You had your chance to rob me of it the other night," she said seriously. She had to keep the ideal of her marrying Thomas a constant aggravation in his mind. It was the only way to sway him to get her out of it, to give her what she truly wanted.

The grin fell straight off his face. "Rob you of it?" he spat. He grabbed both of her arms, yanking her up against him. "You offered it to me."

Her eyes widened for a moment, feeling herself short of breath. She got her hands free and stroked his chest soothingly. "I know. It was just my way of saying no. I thought you enjoyed out banter—"

"Not when it's about him," Chuck retorted. He shook his head. "Why did you even go on a ride with him today? Have I not given you enough of my time? Have you suddenly found him interesting?"

"No, of course not," Blair replied. She smiled, laughing some. "And him interesting? Do not be ridiculous."

He looked some relieved, but still kept somewhat of a pout on his lips. "Why then?" Chuck asked, keeping his eyes with hers.

She sighed, moving past him, to sit down on a large boulder by the creek. "He asked me in front of my mother. She answered for me. There was not much I could do and you were missing," she explained.

"I was with my father this morning. I had royal business to attend to." He walked over, sitting down beside her. "Then I finally get away and come to find you gone, off with him," Chuck muttered with clear disgust in his voice.

Blair smiled at him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. He was already so possessive of her. She never imagined it to be so easy. Sure some may have seen his behavior dangerous. If she were to upset him too much, it could be her head, but she was confident in her mission.

He looked down at her, now holding onto him. "I should have Edmund tell Thomas William took you back to the castle. It's too hot for you out here."

"Inside the castle is even more suffocating. And these clothes are the worst," Blair muttered, pulling at her threads.

He chuckled, "Well do not let me keep you from ridding of them, my Lady."

She rolled her eyes, sitting back up. "I shall do no such thing. Perhaps when I return I'll have a cool bath, tie my hair up." Her tone was innocent, but she was being far from that. She knew her words would instantly put a teasing image into his mind.

Chuck eyed her carefully, biting his bottom lip. He wondered if she'd allow him to watch her bathe. It was indecent, but so was there time together. He shook his head. She'd say no, damn woman.

Blair turned back to look at him, smiling. She could tell by his expression that her words had worked. "Take me back to the castle, Chuck? I'll spend time with you after my bath," she offered. Her hand fell into his lap and she took hold of his.

He stood up, pulling her into his arms. "You can bathe in my chambers. My royal bath is much more prestigious than anyone else's."

She laughed, climbing up onto her horse. "Please. You only want to keep your eye on me."

Chuck got onto his, watching her movements with a smirk. "That I do, _sweetheart_."

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Hampton Court, Surrey_

Blair frowned, blinking her eyes open. She wasn't sure where she was at first. She felt warmness on her back and fur around her. Turning over, she saw she was lying next to the fire, enveloped in fur blankets. She touched her forehead. The last thing she remembered was being in Chuck's tub, soaking in cold water. Suddenly short of breath, she sat up quickly. Looking down at herself she realized she was wrapped in blankets, but naked.

"Relax, sweetheart. I didn't touch you," Chuck's soothing voice came from behind her.

She turned to see him sitting at the end of the bed. He was wearing his white underpants and a white undershirt, but it was left open. He wasn't extremely muscular, but toned. She pulled the fur blankets up further around her.

He rose from the bed, bringing a glass of wine over, and holding it out to her. "You fell asleep in the tub. I came in to find you shivering and practically blue. It was my princely duty to rescue you," he told her.

Blair took the wine, sipping it as she rolled her eyes. "Your princely duty?" she scoffed, setting the cup down.

"Trust me, when I violate your innocence you will be fully awake," Chuck smirked. He sat down beside her, holding up a nightgown. "I had this brought from you room."

"No one saw, did they?" Blair asked cautiously. She held out the blanket for him to hold up as she pulled on the nightgown. It was of course one of her more revealing ones, a white ensemble that hung off her shoulders.

He shook his head. "Of course not. I'm the Prince of England. If I want something done secretly, no one will ever find out," he assured her.

She nodded, tying up her hair and letting the blanket fall. It was then she caught him staring at her.

Chuck had found himself transfixed the moment Blair tied up her hair. He loved it down, curls cascading down her back, but having it up revealed her nape. It was so lovely. It looked like it had been carved from stone and painted to absolute perfection. He moved forward slowly, pulling her towards him.

"Ch-Chuck, what are you doing?" Blair asked. She felt her heart skip a beat as he brought her into his arms. Her eyes closed as she felt his lips on her neck. "Chuck?"

He moved in, finding himself at a loss for control. He kissed her neck, weaving his hand up inside her nightgown. He couldn't help himself. He suckled the sweet skin of her nape, causing the blood to gather under the skin, and bruise. His hand cupped her left breast, his fingertips squeezing it.

Her eyes opened quickly when he touched her breast. She brought her hand up to hold the back of his neck, but her breathing was unsteady. She'd never had a man touch her breasts before. Even when she was fitted for a dress, the tailor was careful where they put their hands.

"It's okay. I am only touching you a little bit, Blair. You must understand I can't help myself," Chuck whispered. His voice was soothing. It could have convinced anyone.

Blair shook her head. It felt so good, but her head told her it was wrong. Was she giving him too much, too quickly? And why was her body agreeing with him so much? She thought her mind was stronger, but now it seemed weaker. She cursed herself, shaking her head. "I—no one's had their hand there before," she revealed.

He chuckled darkly; leaving butterfly kisses up the back of her neck. "I know. I knew that before, when I touched your sweet cunt."

She squeezed her eyes shut. His words were so blunt, but they came so smoothly from his lips. She let her hands fall to his back, gripping his shirt and skin. Clearly her scratching him didn't bother him too much.

Chuck felt her nails pierce the skin of his back. He only smirked though, grabbing her waist, and pulling her into his lap. "Wrap your legs around me," he ordered. "And that's a command."

"Yes, your Highness," Blair replied. She did as told, using her flexibility to please him. It was more comfortable that way. She knew he couldn't get to her without first lifting her. She would know if he was going to try something.

"Your skin is so sweet. Your neck's so beautiful," Chuck mused against her skin. He then pulled back to meet her eyes. He knew he was staring down deep inside of her. She was under his spell, but he felt under hers at the same time. When he looked into her eyes, there was something different. It was a feeling he hadn't had before, in the pit of his stomach.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?" Blair asked, sounding self-conscience. She couldn't help it. She had a strong game, but not under these circumstances. She was a virgin after all. There was no denying it.

He shook his head, bringing his hand up to her face. He took hold of her cheek and ran his thumb down her lips. "No. Come here," he beckoned. He then leaned in, pecking her lips. "Just do what you feel. Kiss how you feel." It was a new thing for him, having to instruct her. Most others he had been with were whores. They knew every move and he'd seen all of it.

Blair felt a shiver go down her spine, but it wasn't from the cold. She was quite warm. She kissed his lips once, then more passionately. They had kissed on the mouth before though. So she kissed down his chin, around his neck. In the crook of the neck she started to open her mouth, leaving kisses with contribution from her tongue.

Chuck's eyes rolled back into his head. He gripped onto her, his fingertips probably bruising her arms. "That's right, Blair. Keep going," he encouraged.

She smiled to herself for a moment and then went in once more. She kissed a few more times, suckling his skin, and then as if from instinct nibbled on him.

He gasped, feeling himself harden and rise. He knew he was pushing against her. She was sitting in his lap.

Blair moved back instantly, falling out of his lap. She looked at the bulge in his pants and then away quickly, shaking her head. "I—I'm sorry," she rasped.

Chuck grabbed a pillow, covering himself, and standing. "Don't be. It knows what it wants," he muttered.

She blushed and brought her knees to her chest, holding them. "Should I leave so you can—you know? Take care of it?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You're not going anywhere," he spat. Then he stood in the corner. "Get on the bed and pull the curtains. I'll join you shortly."

Blair shot up, not needing to be told twice. She got under the covers, seeing nothing, but his shadow from the candlelight. She turned her cheek on her pillow, knowing she should not look. A proper woman of court she was not, but her father would be ashamed for her having such curiosity in that way. She closed her eyes. How could she think of her father in a time like this?

Eyes closed, she heard Chuck call to a servant. A few words were muttered and then came harsh breaths and moans. She couldn't help herself. She opened her eyes, peaking up from the covers. Chuck's shadow showed his standing body rocking back and forward at a quick pace. His arm was jerking back and forth as well. A servant stood in front of him, holding a bucket.

"Forgive me," she whispered to herself, pulling the covers over her head.

"Bl—Buh—Blair! Fuck! Blair!" Chuck shouted. The sound of him stumbling forward came next and then harsh breaths.

"A towel, your Highness," the servant spoke quietly.

"You may go," Chuck retorted. The sound of the door closed.

Blair opened her eyes, though still under the covers, and heard his footsteps coming towards the bed. She felt him get on and heard him chuckle.

"Hiding from me, pretty?" he asked, sounding amused. He lifted the covers, looking at her. The room was now completely dark. "Trust me. It was an honor I took this way to relieve tension on you part."

"This isn't the first time you've said my name," Blair whispered. She wasn't sure why she said it. It just had slipped out. She stared up at him as if in a trance.

Chuck frowned for a moment, but it gradually became a smile. "Should I ask how you know that, Blair?" he wondered. He didn't sound mad, but instead curious. He lowered himself on the bed to lie next to her.

She shook her head; now realizing it had been a mistake to mention it. "It was just an assumption. I—I didn't see anything," she lied.

He smirked, running his hand down her hair, to finger one of her curls. "You're lying. Your lips don't match your mouth." He chuckled, moving further to caress her cheek. "But whatever you saw, I hope it didn't scare you off. I can be rough." His dark eyes met hers.

Blair was quiet for a very long time. Their gaze seemed to go on for eternity. And then her reply came to her. "I'm still here aren't I?"

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: I am so sorry this update took so long, but I do hope I still have readers and the chapter was worth it! I have had a lot going on! I transitioned to college, joined a sorority, midterms, and initiation week, got voted to hold a position of the sorority, and now have finals coming up. Seriously, I hope you guys don't hate me, but there are things I need to put first! I promise I will work hard on updating quicker though. If you're still here leave a review with your thoughts!


	9. Don't Speak

Chapter Nine:

**Don't Speak**

_Hampton Court, Surrey_

"I hate when women dress simple for Sunday Mass, not to mention how ridiculously high their necklines come," Chuck complained, leaning back in his seat. He brought his wine glass to his lips, finishing it off. He was having a lazy and informal dinner with a few of his most loyal mates and their women.

Blair's eyes flickered to him when he spoke. The dinner had been going on for quite some time and everyone at the table was mostly tipsy, including the prince himself. She had grown rather tired of the ordeal, entertaining others. She'd much rather be off and alone with him.

Penelope laughed, shaking her head. "Your Highness, it is with means of being modest and proper in holy surroundings. Surely you understand that," she returned with a joyous smile. Her body leaned towards him and she reached out touching his hand.

Ruby lips instantly pursed and Blair sat up more in her seat. She glared at Penelope, who she knew was doing this on purpose. It was clear the girl, along with many other English women at court, didn't care for Blair or her French way of doing things.

Chuck laughed, looking down at the hand, and without thinking shrugging it off. "Well I do not care. It looks awful. I feel as if you are all going to a funeral. And you hair pulled back so tightly must cause quite a headache," he muttered with distaste.

Nate chuckled, "Must be why they're so bitchy all the time." A few other men laughed with him, patting him on the back. Most of the women forced giggles or actually laughed at such suppression.

Blair was the only one who kept a stone cold countenance throughout the entire ordeal. She wasn't drunk, hadn't even touched the wine since she sat down. It was something she learned from her father, not to get drunk in front of a crowd. It always spread around and gossip ensued at something foolish the alcohol made you do.

"Are you not having fun, Lady Blair?"

Her eyes instantly flew up, surprised at the voice that had spoken. It was Daniel, one of Chuck's servants. He was making eye contact with her as he poured her wine. The entire table silenced, awaiting her response.

Chuck slouched sideways in his seat some, watching even closer. He reached out his hand, rubbing it up and down her back.

Blair felt Chuck's eyes burning into her back. She parted her lips, breathing softly before thinking to remark.

"She's French. They have a dry sense of humor. Everyone knows that," Hazel snorted, falling onto Nate. She almost spilt wine down the front of her dress in the process.

A thousand French curse words and insults swarmed through her head instantly. However, she couldn't even form a full glare before another interruption was made.

"Be quiet! There are few moments when a woman of your class should open her mouth and now is not one of them," Chuck yelled, sitting up completely. There was a dark look in his eyes as he leaned towards Hazel. He appeared dangerous. The air was thick with tension.

Blair stayed still, feeling his hand fist the material of her dress.

Nate shook his head. "Chuck, she was only trying to be humorous—"

"Well she wasn't and don't address me so informally. It's your Highness, in case you've forgotten," Chuck retorted. He gave his friend a look that threatened not to test him. Then he stood, pushing the table forward and knocking a few things over. He pulled down his sleeves in a jerky motion. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've lost my appetite."

"Dinner has already finished," Nate piped in once more.

"Regardless," Chuck raised his voice once more, "I am to retire. Lady Blair." He nodded to her, holding out his hand.

Blair stood, pushing in her chair, and taking his hand. "Thank you for escorting me back to my chambers, your Highness," she said, merely for show. Then she began walking down the hallway with him. She didn't miss the feel off all eyes staring at them as they went.

Finally, they rounded the corner. They took a darker hallway back to Chuck's chambers. It was typically where she spent her nights, if he did not spend his in hers. She still hadn't given him her maidenhead, though it got harder each night, but they slept beside one another. And sometimes they partook in _other things_.

The door closed and Chuck let go of Blair's hands. He went to his wardrobe, yanking off his shirt and kicking at his shoes. She stood calmly by the fire, watching his rapid movements.

"I do not like that they think they can insult you, and on such grounds!" he shouted. He was shirtless now, his face red, and all worked up.

Blair walked over, touching his chest, and stilling him. She smiled softly as she combed back some of his dark hair with her fingers. "And to my face? Quite shocked was I," she jested.

He frowned, noting her expression. "How do you not take offense?" he questioned.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his. Blair nodded, "I do take offense, most great offense I assure you. I am just not one to reply so soon. My reaction takes time."

"I do not understand," Chuck admitted. It must have been his drunken state that was puzzling him. He had actually gotten rather good at understanding her for the most part.

"Don't worry about it, Darling." Blair smiled at him once more and then leaned in, kissing him on the lips. She caressed the back of his head before pulling away. "Help me," she instructed. Turning around, she lifted her hair so he could undo her dress.

Chuck paused, staring at the back of her nape. He licked his lips before reaching his hand up and stroking it down her neck, then undoing the dress, and letting it drop to the floor.

Blair stilled, feeling his hand travel down her side. He yanked off the padding underneath the dress. It too fell to the floor. Then his hand curved and he groped her thigh before pulling her back to him. He kissed her neck hungrily, his hands pulling at her different curves roughly. She knew before too long he would excite himself and put her more at risk for losing her maidenhead.

"You're drunk, Chuck," Blair proclaimed loudly. The tone of her voice indicated exactly what else she meant.

Chuck squeezed her side tightly, his nails piercing her skin. "I am fine. That is no excuse," he muttered against her skin. He did not plan to stop at that point.

She shook her head. "You will not remember it—"

"Fine!" Chuck snapped, pushing her forward. He threw his hands up in frustration and kicked an empty washing basin on the floor.

Blair fell onto the bed and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his anger unleash. She sighed, pushing herself back up, and turning towards the door. She'd only gotten a few steps before he stopped her.

"Wait," he said urgently. His eyes met hers and his became much gentler than before. His voice softened as well. "I am sorry. It was my temper. I am not unhappy with merely sleeping again," he lied. It made him very, very unhappy.

This wasn't something Blair didn't know, but still she nodded. She pretended that she believed him and took his hand, leading him to the bed. "Goodnight, Chuck," she whispered. She felt his arm come around her.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart," Chuck mumbled into her hair.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Blair sat at her bureau, with a white sheet wrapped around her, fresh from her bath. She was getting ready for Mass. Chuck had agreed to escort her, as per usual, but for some reason he hadn't showed yet. It was strange. Typically he came early and tried to persuade her to do _unholy_ things with him. He always claimed she could confess shortly after and all would be well. Today though, it appeared as if he would not even be on time, but late.

"Je dois reveler vos cheveux, Lady Blair?" her French maid asked, gathering Blair's curls in her hands. _(English Translation: "Should I put your hair up, Lady Blair?")_

Blair turned at the sound of a familiar chuckle though. She peered over her shoulder, seeing Chuck come in with a servant girl that was not her own. She was giggling as he laughed, stumbling in quite informally.

"Lady Blair? I said would you like your hair up today?" her servant asked again, speaking louder.

"I—I don't know," Blair mumbled, keeping her eyes on Chuck. Her brow fell and she found herself taking deeper breaths than before.

"Sweetheart, is something wrong?" Chuck asked. He came towards her, touching her cheek in a soothing fashion.

Her eyes fell for a moment. She focused on the feel of his cool fingertips against her hot skin. Then she raised her head once more, coldly glaring at the girl still by the door.

All of Blair's maids quieted, exchanging glances with one another.

The girl shivered a bit as she bowed. "Ex—excuse me, my Lady," she managed. Then she quickly left the room, seeming scared for her life.

Blair glared up at Chuck before turning forward quickly. In the process she pushed Chuck's hand away and sat up firmly. "Fait ton travail!" she yelled at her maid, accent thick. _(English Translation: "Do your work!")_

"Ye—yes, my Lady," her maid appeased, coming to her service immediately.

Chuck stopped her though, holding up his hand. The girl froze on spot and he leaned down, bringing his arms around Blair's shoulders, across her chest. He kissed her cheek, making eye contact with her in the mirror.

"Don't be that way," Chuck murmured into her ear. It was quiet, but an evident demand.

Blair pouted her lips, pulling forward.

He noticed her disobedience and stood, letting go of her roughly. "Fine! I don't need this! Not from you, or anyone!" he spat. Then he turned and started out of the room in haste.

"Chuck, wait!" Blair yelled, her face falling. By the time she had turned around though, he was gone. She sunk down back into her seat, shaking her head. Then she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She knew what she needed to do. A smirk came to her lips.

"Louise, come and finish my hair. And Mary, get my black dress out for Mass. The fancy and low-cut one," Blair ordered. She let the sheet fall off her shoulders, primping her curls.

One girl came to work on her hair, but the other hesitated.

"The low-cut dress? For Mass?" she questioned. It was quite scandalous. Many were likely to whisper about her Lady and not in a kind way.

"Do not pretend you did not hear me," Blair retorted, giving her a stern look. Then she turned back around, nodding. "I know you heard me…and I know what I'm doing." She nodded to herself, "I do indeed know what I'm doing."

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck stood at the front of the church, hands folded, and a rather sour look on his face. He did not want to be at Mass that day, especially after how things had gone with Blair. She had been so bitter and jealous about his flirting with a maid. He didn't understand it. It wasn't like she owned him. She hadn't even given him her maidenhead. Why would she think he owed her absolute loyalty in return? He shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"His Lordship Thomas and His Lady Blair," a servant at the door announced. He hit his staff against the stone floors.

"His Lady?" Chuck muttered to himself. He took on an almost nauseous appearance as he turned his cheek. Had she actually allowed Thomas to escort her, just to spite him?

Blair held onto to Thomas's arm, walking gracefully into the room. She stopped with him in front of Chuck and Bart. They both bowed and then she threw a smile to Chuck before sitting behind them.

Chuck sat down in his seat, crossing his arms, and shaking his head. He wanted to kill her in that moment. She had the audacity to waltz in with her fiancé and in a dress that Chuck gave her—he paused. Slowly and carefully he turned back around.

She stared right at him, her rose red lips forming a satisfied smirk. With her hand she lightly fanned at her breasts. Such breasts were practically popping out of her low-cut, jewel encrusted, black dress. And her hair was not in a tight bun, but her curls instead were barely pulled back.

"Your Highness," Blair said quietly, bowing her head once more.

Chuck's nostrils flared and he turned back around. When he did, he noticed he could not get the image of her fanning her bosom out of his mind. Perfect. Now he not only didn't want to be at Mass, but also would be longing for something else the entire time.

"Do you need something before Mass, your Highness?" Daniel Humphrey asked, coming to his side and speaking quietly.

"Nothing I can surely have here," Chuck scoffed. He was about to motion the servant off when something stopped him. He grabbed hold of Dan's arm, bringing him closer. "I have something to ask of you, Daniel."

"Yes, your Highness," Dan permitted eagerly.

Chuck leaned closer, lowering his voice. "What do you think of Lady Blair's attire?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Really, he supposed it didn't matter if he did or not. All of the servants were much too fearful to cross him.

Dan's eyes flickered from the Prince's, to Lady Blair, and then back again. He smiled, chuckling lightly under his breath. "I believe she has dressed to impress his royal highness."

Chuck frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" he furthered.

"She looks as his highness described he wished the ladies of court would dress at mass last night. Do you not recall?" Dan asked, looking more serious than before. People were starting to take note of their conversing.

Chuck turned back around, looking at her once more. Blair was dressed how he had claimed he preferred. He shook his head. "But why would she do such a thing? After today—" His voice trailed off into silence.

Dan cleared his throat. "If I may, your Highness. Perhaps it is not within my right to say, but I have noticed that the Lady Blair does much of what you want. Whether that pertains to attitude or dress."

"You're dismissed," Chuck mumbled. He stared forward as the priest started, thinking over what Daniel had said.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Blair walked down the hallway, paying no mind to those she passed. It was after Mass and she had been quite disappointed when Chuck did not immediately approach her. Had he not noticed her way of dress? Was he still mad at her for how she had acted about his flirting with the servant girl? She sighed, going down a darker hallway to get to her chambers. It was a bleak day in England. The clouds had covered the sun and inside the castle torches had to be lit to keep light. Perhaps that had something to do with her mood. Dorota had always said the heavens controlled those who serve it or something like that. She shook her head, rounding the corner.

"Don't scream."

Blair barely had time to stop herself when she heard the demand. She had rounded the corner to be grabbed by the neck with one hand, another clamping over her mouth.

"Do you understand?" the husky and all too familiar voice asked.

She nodded, her chest heaving up and down. Though she knew who it was, it still scared her out of her mind to be in such a hold. He wasn't choking her, but he wasn't giving her a huge range to breathe either. She closed her eyes for a few moments, trying to get herself together.

Chuck slowly dropped his hand from Blair's mouth, but kept the other on her neck. He moved towards her, pushing her back against the wall. "Open your eyes and look at me," he commanded.

Blair obeyed without hesitation. She found herself staring into black, dangerous looking eyes. But they were still seductive as could be. "What is this?" she questioned.

He smirked, chuckling darkly. "I wanted to catch you off guard, get you in a position where you could not lie to me," Chuck explained. The tone of his voice gave away that he received pleasure from her current predicament. He was clearly enjoying the situation.

She was going to shake her head, but was reminded that was impossible. So she kept her a serious countenance and replied. "I have never been untruthful with you, Chuck."

"It is in a woman's nature to be untruthful," he countered. Then he smiled, kissing her lips lightly before meeting her eyes again. "But I don't hold it against you, Sweetheart."

Blair couldn't figure him in that moment. Was he angry with her? Had he figured out her plan? No, he would have surely sent her straight to the tower if he did. What was it then, this change in behavior of his, that which made him quite unreadable?

"Ask me what you will then? I'd like to be able to breathe to what god wills again," Blair spat, trying to sound strong. It was difficult in her predicament though. She felt a need, stronger than ever, to relinquish all control to him.

"See that is what I love about this, it's what I will," Chuck returned. His other hand trailed down her side, gripping her hip. "Now someone brought something to my attention today about you. Would you care to hear it?"

"Only if it's truthful," she answered shortly. Her voice was defensive, but she couldn't help it. She felt on edge.

He nodded, "I'd like to think it is." He then leaned forward, moving his hand down her nape just slightly so that he could kiss below her ear. "They told me that you do everything you do to please me. Is it true?" He came back, his eyes connecting with hers.

Blair clamped her lips shut, not wanting to answer right away. She studied him first. There was an answer he wanted, but what was it?

Chuck seemed to grow impatient by the second. He bit his bottom lip, his breathing becoming slightly heavier. "Well?" he questioned.

She saw then that he wanted it to be true. He wanted to think that he and pleasing him was all she thought about. She smirked, moving her body closer to him. "I did not think it would have to be brought to your attention, your Highness."

"Don't tease me now," Chuck growled, shaking his head. He gripped her neck tighter, pushing his body against hers, and pinning her to the wall.

"Pl—please," Blair gasped. She could not breathe now.

He loosened his grip instantly, feeling his stomach turn at the thought of him discomforting her that much. "Tell me then," he demanded.

She inhaled a sharp breath and nodded as best she could. "I only want to be what you want. I—I would very much like to make you happy, Chuck." Blair used her most sincere voice, wanting to fully convince him.

"Happy?" Chuck repeated, though sounding somewhat cynical. It didn't have to do with her, but only his previous thoughts on the word.

She bit her bottom lip and then proceeded to try again. "Do you not understand? I don't spend time with you because you order it. I do it because I—I feel terrible when I do not. You give me what I want and I do everything in my power to do the same for you," she versed.

"Not everything," he challenged instantaneously. It wasn't something he even thought about saying before it was already said. The response was an automatic one because it was what he constantly thought about. He was sexually frustrated, plain and simple.

Blair's eyes fell, knowing exactly what he meant.

He came closer, taking his hand off her neck and placing it, along with the other one, on the walling around her. "Tonight," he hissed in her ear.

She felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure if she was ready for that, if this would be good for her. What if once he got what he wanted he wouldn't continue on with her?" Chuck," her voice pleaded.

He shook his head, moving back some to look into her eyes. His were full on commanding hers. "Your teasing is done with. I will not wait any longer. You give me everything right now or you give me no more at all, and I you," he certified.

Blair could tell by the look in his eyes and the sound of his voice that he was not going to back down. He knew what he wanted and he was not going to wait any longer for it. She had no choice really. If she refused, she would lose all hopes to be Queen. If she accepted, she could lose Thomas and any crown at all. She shook her head. Who cared what happened to her if she could not be Queen? It was the only way England would be at all tolerable for her. She would have it all or have nothing.

Chuck picked up a curl, twirling it around his finger. "So will you give me everything I want, Blair?" he hummed in her ear.

She took a deep and sharp breath, raising her head. "Ye—yes," Blair agreed. Part of her sounded pained, the other scared. She was, of a lot of things, but not him. She wasn't scared of him, but only what he could do to her. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she felt frightened that this would end, that he'd be done with her.

He smiled, instantly pulling her into a strong kiss. "Tonight your maidenhead is mine," Chuck breathed against her full lips. He then brought up her hand and kissed it too.

"Where?" she furthered, trying not to appear too affected by it. She was a virgin, that he knew, but she didn't want to act as one.

"It's important that it is done in my room, where it would be considered in right," he told her.

"In right?" Blair queried. She didn't understand what he had meant.

Chuck, realizing what he had said, waited a few moments to look up at her. When he did, he shook his head. "I take virgins in my bed. It is within my feelings of true victory," he lied. Well perhaps it was partly true, but it had not been what he meant.

"Oh." It was all that came out. She wasn't sure if his comment should be disappointing to her. Then she kissed him on the cheek before moving forward. "I shall be brought as always then?"

"Yes, but go to your chambers now and start preparation. I want you in the most perfect and purest state you can be in when I have you," he added, circling around her.

Looking into his eyes, Blair couldn't help, but think this felt like some marriage ritual. Quickly, she pushed the thought away though. There was no sense in thinking about things like that. It could almost be considered daydreaming and she could not have that.

"I will be," she answered simply. She hoped he did not think too much about the long pause that partook in her thoughts.

In her favor, it didn't seem to bother Chuck. He took hold of the back of her neck and kissed her forehead gently. "Good, sweetheart," he praised. Then he let go of her and turned, going the other way.

Blair stood there for a few moments, touching where he had kissed. She still felt it. A shiver traveled through her.

**XOXOXOXOXO **

The doors opened and Blair took quiet steps into Chuck's chambers. She wore a thin white robe, though it still had kept her identity hidden. The castle had been cold, but his room was warm. The roaring fire before her definitely had something to do with it. She held her hand out, taking a deep breath, and closing her eyes.

"I've been waiting for you, _Sweetheart_," Chuck whispered into her ear. He took hold of her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her.

Blair's eyes fell to the ground and she parted her lips slowly to try and speak. "Will—will I stay when it is finished?" she asked. She didn't want to seem needy or insecure about anything, but perhaps she was.

He knitted his eyebrows together for a moment, pausing the kisses he gave to her nape. "When _we_ have finished, you may lay with me as the night before. In fact, you will not leave the bed until I permit it," he clarified.

She found small comfort her in that and turned around to face him. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. Then he guided her to the foot of the bed. She looked it over, noticing the fur blankets missing. In fact, all that the bed had been dressed in was pure, and new, white sheets.

Chuck caught her staring and wrapped his arms tightly round her again. "I thought it might come in handy one day. But regardless, I'd like to keep the proof," he told her.

"Have you ever kept a virgin's sheets before? Blair asked. It was what she needed to know. His answer would tell her whether the sheets would be a simple and abundant trophy for him or something much, much more.

"Never," he rasped in her ear. Then he let go of his hold on her. "Now lay down on the bed, on your back." His instructions sounded clean, easy.

She nodded and started to crawl on the bed when she felt him grab hold of her leg. Directly afterwards she froze, on spot. She felt his body come over her and he kissed the back of her neck. His hips, they pressed against her bottom. Before she could stop herself she whimpered. She had heard about men taking pleasure that way. Seen terrible drawings in god-forsaken books that described it.

"No. I wouldn't do that to you for your first," Chuck righted. He shook his head, taking his hand and turning her over. Getting on his knees, he brought her body down. He took hold of her bottom, having her legs wrap around his waist. Then he leaned in, kissing her passionately on the lips. His tongue slipped in for a moment, right before he spoke. "Do you give me permission to take your maidenhead?"

Blair was surprised he had asked, but nodded. She spoke against his lips. "Ye—yes," she secured between pecks. Her hands came up, her fingers massaging through his dark hair. She felt him start to grope her bottom, pinching it with a full palm.

Chuck kissed her back, feeling her take note of how he was handling her bosom. He smirked and pushed her back down onto the bed. He fell down onto her, his cock thickening against her thigh. Then he began to kiss her again, his hand reaching up to hold her neck. He liked having that sort of grasp on her. It felt like complete control.

Her eyes widened as she felt him pushing through clothes and up against her leg. And his hand was on her neck again, but it felt good. A warm feeling took down at her thighs, between her legs. She released an immense breath, holding onto him. She liked him on top of her, pinning her down.

"Do you feel that, the way it pulses against your skin? You have done that," Chuck rasped against the flesh of her neck. Then he shook his head, hastily pulling at his shirt to get it off. "I want more. I want to feel more." His voice was desperate ask he yanked his clothes off.

Blair didn't have the chance to look down before his nude form was on top of her again. He lifted himself, but she could only see his chest. He ripped open her nightgown, stilling when he stared down at her body. It partly reminded her of an animal gaping at its prey, but there was something else in his gaze too. She didn't quite understand it, until he curved his hands under her breasts and held them.

"You're so beautiful, perfect. I couldn't have imagined for you to look any better," he swore. Then he came down on her once more, kissing from her chin to her lips. He positioned his body so he could thrust lightly against her center, first softly and then harder.

A moan escaped Blair's lips as she felt him thrusting against her. Her body trembled and she now sensed wetness between her legs. In fact it was running down her inner thighs. She started to look down, but Chuck caught her lips.

"You're already so slick. You're ready," Chuck decided. He gripped hardly onto the sides of her hips and then pushed himself inside of her.

Blair cried out, not expecting it. She gasped, breathing heavily, and whimpering all at once. She felt pain. Her walls clenched around him tightly.

Chuck rested his forehead against hers, releasing a harsh breath of his own. "Yo—you're so tight. Fuck." Virgins weren't a new thing for him, sex even more familiar, but this felt different. It felt amazingly different.

She wondered if that was good, but all thoughts were gone the moment she felt him begin to slowly pull out and then push back in. Tears trailed down her cheeks, but she did feel pleasure. His thrusts were slow and steady, but firm at the same time.

He brushed his lips against hers, staring into her eyes intently. His speed increased and his thrusts became more intense. He knew he was hurting her some, but it was his way.

Blair grabbed onto him, her nails piercing the skin of his shoulders. She turned her cheek on the pillow, breathing heavily. The hurt was not subsiding, but the satisfaction didn't either.

"Say—say my name," Chuck commanded, his voice full of breath. He pumped deeper, increasing his speed. Soon he felt the tip of his cock brush her g-spot. His body shook in delight, knowing when he reached it.

"Ch—Chuck!" Blair cried out. Her voice jumped when he pushed in deeper than before, her hips also jolting forward.

"Ch—Chuck," her voice fell to a whisper.

"That's it, love," he complimented. He nodded, panting and squeezing his eyes shut as her walls clamped down on his throbbing member. He couldn't even begin to describe how good she felt. So he'd show her best he could. He reached down, intertwining their fingers, and bringing their hands up over her head. "Fu—fuck, your beautiful."

Blair felt as if a tidal wave crashed down onto her, washing away all bad feelings. Her mother's voice wasn't in her head. She heard no one but him, nothing but his words. She squeezed his hands and kissed his lips, but felt too breathless to utter a word.

Chuck's eyes widened as his balls tightened. He was close, so close. He needed to make her understand. "Le—let go," he allowed. He wanted her to so he could.

She didn't understand what he meant at first, but then it came to her. Her climax was coming at full speed. Her legs twitched and her breath hitched in her throat. "Ch—Chu—Chuck!" she screamed. Her body, hips first, threw forward and up against him. She grabbed onto him, crying out.

He smiled, listening to her screaming as she came. Then she fell limp, back onto the pillows, and staring up at him. Still inside her, he planned to explode within her walls. He leaned down, starting to make the first of final pumps.

Blair's eyes widened, when she realized what was going on. She shook her head desperately, pushing up on his chest. "No—no. I—no—" This is what could make her pregnant. She couldn't let it happen, but would he listen.

Chuck understood what she meant. Angry and frustrated he pushed her roughly away from him.

She rolled over, breathing heavily as she watched him fall forward against the mattress. His body convulsed as he thrust violently against the sheets. He screamed like an angry animal, grasping the pillows. "Fu—fuck! Blair!" With those final words his body fell limp. Slowly his heavy breathing started, but he remained lying on his stomach.

"I—I'm sorry," Blair whimpered, knowing he hadn't been happy about how it ended. She still almost screamed when his hand flew up and grabbed her by the back of the head.

He turned to look at her, eyes dark. Then he pulled her towards him, turning on his side. His arms came around her and he held her body to his chest. "Don't speak," Chuck concluded. "Don't speak."

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: Could that song have something to do with this story? Hmm… I don't know. Hope you liked the chapter. More to come soon, darlings.

Also a big thanks to my translator! Oh and I know there are probably some mistakes, but I did a really quick beta job. I'll come back and do another when I can!


	10. The Chosen Side

Chapter Ten:

**The Chosen Side**

_Hampton Court, Surrey_

Blair batted her eyes open, feeling a slight pain between her legs. She adjusted them, noting that Serena had told her it would be sore after she lost her maidenhead. All thoughts vanished though when she felt Chuck's arms around her. He had his face in the crook of her neck as he held her quite close to his body. She couldn't help, but smile softly that he had not left her or beckoned her to leave in the middle of the night. There was a warm feeling in her belly, a flutter.

"You're awake," Chuck whispered in her ear. He adjusted his arms around her. Then he kissed the skin of her neck softly with his lips.

"As are you," Blair responded. She hadn't known he was when she woke. He had been lying so peacefully.

He lifted his head from her neck and turned her so that he stared down at her, his body half over hers. "I have been awake for hours earlier. I was thinking," he disclosed.

She gazed up at him, doe brown eyes still full of innocence despite what had happened the night before. She did note that he was being much gentler than though. It felt nice. "What were you thinking about?" she asked freely.

Chuck stared down at her, wondering if he was ready to admit it. He had decided something after last night. It was a strange experience for him. It almost felt like an awakening of some sort.

Blair saw in his eyes that he was contemplating something in that moment. She reached her hand up, caressing his cheek. "You can tell me," she assured him. She found herself feeling anxious about what it could be.

He nodded after a few moments, lowering himself so that he lied beside her once more. He took her hands, bringing them up to his lips, and kissing them softly. "I decided something. I decided that I want you, only you," Chuck revealed.

She knew her eyes widened as her heart clenched. Instantly every part of her felt excited by his confession. Could he really mean it? She couldn't help, but smile. "Do you really?" she asked.

"Yes. I want your body and your mind. I want it all to belong to me entirely," he furthered. He couldn't imagine sharing her. He didn't think she wanted to be shared either by her reaction. This was good. It was a fast decision, but one that seemed to be working out quite nicely.

She laughed, breathlessly, and nodded her head. "You can have me then, your Highness." She had not expected it to be so easy. He didn't seem to be the type to fall like that, hand the title of future Queen over to her. But she would accept it.

Chuck grinned, "So you shall be my only Mistress, _Sweetheart_?" He always figured he would take one, but after his father had made him get married. He figured it would be at the time he got bored with his wife and he would have several, but with Blair he somehow only wanted her.

Blair froze and her face fell. She felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. "Wh—what?" she stuttered. Her voice scratched at her throat. It was suddenly so dry.

He chuckled and leaned in, kissing her neck. "I know it is soon to make such an offer, but you shall have all that you want. I am sure you know that a Prince and then a King's Mistress is given the most lavish of lifestyles—"

"No," Blair protested, pushing on his chest. She shook her head, trying to force him off of her. "Jamais!" Her voice was much louder now.

Chuck rose off of her. His brow furrowed and he found himself confounded. "What do you mean never? The Prince of England just promised you that you could be his sole mistress and you gave me your maidenhead, what else could you possible have wanted?" he questioned.

"Not this," she retorted. Then she rose and got out of the bed swiftly, pulling on her discarded nightgown from the floor. It was ripped, but it would make due, at least until she got to her room. She felt the bile rise in her throat and kept her back to him. "This will be the last time you see me like this. I only ask that you keep this to yourself—"

"No!" Chuck screamed, feeling his temper unleash. He got off the bed in haste and walked around it, smacking a vase off a table by the end of the bed. "I will not give you to him, not after this!"

"I am not yours to give!" Blair yelled back, turning around to look at him. It was the first time she screamed back at him. Usually she tried to calm him, but not now, not when she was borderline hysterical.

He put his hands to his chest, laughing cynically. "Not—not mine to give?" Chuck walked towards her. "If I say you're mine, then you're mine and I just offered you the world. You should try being more grateful, _Lady_ Blair," he spat sarcastically.

She shook her head, taking a few steps back from him. "Well it appeared as hell to me. Now if you'll excuse me, I shall be going." She started to turn and leave, but felt him grab onto her.

Chuck felt himself shaking with anger as he grabbed hold of her. His voice was practically a growl, "How dare you—"

"How dare you!" Blair countered, spinning around to hit him in the chest. Her eyes watered with tears, though she refused to let them fall. Still, her voice shook as she spoke. "I—I just gave you the one thing a woman has to give and you…you treat me this way."

"Treat you this way? I thought I just gave you what you wanted!" Chuck yelled in frustration, shaking his head. He looked into her eyes, trying to understand what was going on with her.

"Don't," she refused, "You never cared for what I wanted. You got what you wanted and now be done with it. Just let me leave," she refused. She turned away from him, only wanting to go before she broke down. She knew it could be karma, considering she set out to use him, but that didn't make her feel any better.

Chuck stared at her back and then walked up to her, speaking close to her ear. "I had no intention. Please do not go, not until I understand," he pleaded, though he would never admit that he was.

Blair was about to dismiss him and hurry from the room when her eye caught hold of her reflection. She gasped, reaching down to fist a bloodstain on her nightgown. Was she supposed to have bled that much? "Ch—Chuck?" she quivered.

He didn't understand her sudden change in mood until he caught what she was staring at. "Shhh. Don't cry. You only bled more than expected. Don't get upset," Chuck told her in a soothing voice. He brought his hand over the bloodstain on her nightgown, covering it from her view.

Tears ran down Blair's cheeks and she inhaled a sharp breath. She turned to look at him, despite their argument. "Will—will it always hurt so much?" she asked, stuttering at first.

His facial expression changed greatly, becoming much softer. He shook his head, wiping at her tears. "No. You are just sore. You should not be out of bed. Come here." He put one arm along her back and bent down, taking the other under her legs. Her frail frame was lifted with ease and he carried her back to the bed.

Blair held onto him, not quite understanding what he was doing. When he put her back down on the bed, she looked up to him with alert brown eyes. "What are you going to do?" she implored.

"Nothing. I only want you to rest, Sweetheart. Sleep and I shall have what you need brought to you when you wake," Chuck explained. He ran the back of his hand down her cheek, curving it under her chin.

She nodded and turned her body away from him, facing the wall instead. She felt comforted by his actions, but not by his words. It felt as if she had made a grave mistake. Now that he had offered her title of mistress, she questioned what he would do next.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck had made sure Blair had all she needed when she awoke. He did not want to leave her, but had been called upon by his father. They had royal business to attend to, meetings held in the throne room. Of course he hurried back to his chambers as soon as he could, but Blair was gone when he finally got there. He tried calling on her, sending guards to bring her, but only received reports of her not feeling well or her absence. He would have gone to her room himself, but he felt himself being watched. Perhaps his father was catching on or it was just over suspicion, but he didn't want to risk it, especially for her sake. It was something he could recover from, but Blair most definitely could not. He was alone, or felt like it, for days. Nathaniel and his other mates came around, but he barely noticed them. All he could think of was Blair, the hurt in her eyes when he offered her the title of Mistress. It was not what she wanted, but he was scared to think about what she did want. And when he thought about what he wanted—well that was simple, he wanted her. He wasn't ready for their affair to end; especially when it had just began. He was thinking all of this over when he wondered into the grand hall that morning and saw her. She stood next to Thomas and a few older men, looking as beautiful as ever. She didn't see him though so he stayed in the shadows, edging closer to their conversation.

"She is most lovely, your Lordship. However, you two are so close in age. In my opinion someone should always find a much younger wife," the Duke of Cambridge remarked. He was a man who believed in tradition, about late forties in age.

Chuck saw that his glare matched Blair's. He knew she was angry and with great right. They were speaking about her as if she was not there, as if she could not hear them. She didn't like it and neither did he.

"I—I think Blair and I shall do fine, your Grace," Thomas replied nervously. He spared a smile at Blair, attempting to comfort her in the awkward situation.

Chuck rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. The imbecile couldn't even properly defend her. He should have ordered the men to silence themselves. He had right after all; it was his fiancée…as much as Chuck hated that fact.

The Duke chuckled with the other men. He then patted Thomas on the shoulder. "Do not be so quick in judgment, my boy. You do have options."

Thomas shook his head, frowning, "You do not understand, Sir. Lady Blair is my fiancée. She was gifted to me."

The elder man grinned as if he found all of it oh so amusing. "Yes, and given to you. However you can now give her to someone else if that was what you decided to do," he informed him.

Chuck felt his fists clench at his sides. He was starting to understand what the Duke's means of conversation were now and they angered him even more than before.

"Why would I want to do that?" Thomas questioned. He was still as dumbfounded as ever, poor fool.

The Duke smirked, "I have a daughter, very young and beautiful. She is only fifteen and would make a fine, young wife for someone of your age. I however do not have a wife. Perhaps…we could make a trade?" He reached a hand up to touch Blair.

She backed away from him though, her face indicating she felt sick to her stomach. It was all he needed to intervene.

"Thomas will never accept such an offer," Chuck cut in, walking out of the shadows and up to the group. He felt Blair's eyes on him instantly, but he kept a stern and powerful stare with the Duke of Cambridge.

All of the men instantly bowed. "Your Highness," they said in union.

"_Thomas_ would never give Blair up for some common little English girl. _He _does not want a child, but a woman. And _he_ does not want just any woman either. Never would _he_ trade her like livestock, though _he_ does like to think _he_ owns her," Chuck's gaze drifted to Blair as he spoke, "I—he wants to."

Thomas looked perplexed, but Blair's eyes were watering. She touched her heart and then turned away from them, leaving without even excusing herself.

Chuck left as the men muttered apologies, hurrying after her, even if it was some obvious. He followed her into an empty room, closing the door. "Blair?" he called out, looking around for her.

She came at him from the side, grabbing and kissing him passionately. He smirked, kissing her back and bringing her close. She nuzzled his cheek. "For a moment, I thought Thomas may trade me," she breathed. She had not forgotten what had happened with them, but in that moment had been overcome with some…feeling for him. She could not control herself.

He shook his head. "Over my dead body. I shall never see you with another man, especially one almost three times your age," Chuck assured her.

Blair nodded, but her eyes fell from his. "They made me feel like an old mare, someone needs to put down—"

"No, Darling," Chuck dismissed. He brought up his hand, caressing her cheek. "But let us not talk about them anymore. Let us talk about how I thought you had left me." He wanted to address it, before she ran off again. He couldn't take such separation a second time.

She looked up cautiously. "I-I won't change my mind about your offer of Mistress, your Highness—"

"The offer no longer stands. I do not understand everything, but I know it's not what you want. Can you forgive me for it?" Chuck returned instantly.

Blair paused for a moment, not sure how to respond at first. Then she pulled away from him, leaning back against the wall. "Then—then what are we, Chuck? Now that I have—that I have—" She shook her head, not being able to say it. "What am I to you?" Her eyes stared deep into his.

Chuck proceeded towards her carefully, putting one hand on the wall above her head and the other captured her cheek. He kissed her on the lips lightly. "You're my Sweetheart," he whispered.

"What does that mean?" she furthered. She was scared about what the answer could be, but she made herself say it.

He sighed, tucking a curl behind her ear. "That I'm doing everything I can to hold onto you, that I can't let this end now, that I don't want it to ever end," he admitted.

Blair paused, considering what he had said. It wasn't a proposal or promise of one, but she had never expected that yet. It was however, him admitting he didn't want their affair to end, their time together. It was a risk for her to take, but so was everything she had done so far. She decided she would go for it and…well a part of her wanted to regardless. She didn't want their time to end either. She wasn't ready to let go of him, to give up.

His other hand came down and he intertwined their fingers. "I will give you whatever you desire if you only be with me, in secret…for now at least." His voice sounded as if he was begging and he hated it, but he couldn't help it.

She smiled softly and reached up, hugging around his neck. Soon his arms wrapped around her waist. The hold felt amazing. She kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear. "I'm yours."

Chuck closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. Then he chuckled and picked her up, twirling her around. He slowed, stopping, and dipping her body. Then he leaned down, kissing her strongly on the lips.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck smiled to himself, petting the main of his dark stallion. He had been hunting earlier that day, dogs and all. Nathanial had not been able to attend so he asked only William instead. He liked the peace and quiet William brought. There was a serenity that surrounded him that Chuck never quite understood. Now the day was over though and they were back at the barn, finishing up.

"The servants could surely tend to your horse, your Highness," William acknowledged, nodding towards the animal. He wasn't quite sure what had happened to the Prince, but there was something different about him.

"I enjoy calming him down after a ride. And I put him through quite the task today. The game seemed faster than usual," Chuck returned. He walked to the front of the animal, stroking down the sides of its head.

"As did you," his friend added. He chuckled when Chuck met his eyes, shaking his head. "It's like you've been reborn. I've never seen you with so much energy, so much life."

Chuck laughed, "What am I, an old man? Surely, you don't mean to insult me, William. You're smarter than Nathaniel on that account." It was a joke he wouldn't typically make on his best friend's behalf, but for some reason it had slipped out and he hadn't thought about it.

William shook his head, "Of course not, your Highness. Perhaps I meant you seem…happier than you were." He chose his words carefully, but the possible reaction still made him nervous. That fact was evident in his tone and expression too.

"Well I've recently had some frustration relieved. Is that what you mean?" Chuck asked, looking to him. He of course meant the fact that Blair had finally surrendered her maidenhead, but he wasn't going to tell anyone that, not even a close friend.

"No, not exactly. You were rather…unpleasant these past few weeks, but that is not what I meant. I said what I meant. You seem happier, with life," his friend corrected. He spoke both seriously and sincerely.

Chuck stared at him for a few moments, but didn't say anything. He tied up his stallion and nodded his head. "I shall see you later, William. Thank you for a good hunt." With that he turned and started to leave.

"Is it _her_?" William called after him.

Chuck froze on spot, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath before slowly turning around to look back at his friend. "I am sure I do not know what you mean, William," he lied.

William smiled, shaking his head. "Of course you don't, your Highness. Well, good day then." He bowed his head and returned to brushing his horse's hair, but chuckled under his breath.

"Yes. Good day," Chuck returned. He then turned to leave once more, but did not miss the final words his friend called out before he had gone.

"Do tell Lady Blair I said hello!"

Chuck couldn't help, but smile.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Blair trailed her hands along the bookshelves of the great library. She wasn't sure what she was doing, perhaps just biding her time until Chuck returned. For at the moment she didn't see the sense of embarking on a book. She never had the time to read anymore.

All thoughts stopped when she heard someone shuffle around the corner. She smiled, feeling somebody watching her and knowing whom that person must be. "Chuck?" she called out.

"Calling a prince by his Christian name, Lady Blair? Could be considered quite scandalous," Nate remarked, coming around the corner. He had been watching her since she entered the library. He knew Chuck was off hunting.

Blair's face fell and her voice became dull. "Oh it's you," she sighed. She turned away from him, walking down another row.

He came out in front of her though, eyes narrowed. "That is not how you greet a Duke," Nate retorted. He was sick of her undermining him. Perhaps in front of Chuck he had to take it, but not when they were alone. She would not get away with it then.

Her expression remained unfazed. In fact, she merely smirked in amusement. "A title you only have thanks to his Royal Highness, I suspect," she mocked. She put her hand on a book, pretending to select it and purposely ignore him.

Nate put his hand on hers, causing her to look at him in surprise. "Thanks to his Grace, my father, actually," he corrected with a tense tone of voice.

Blair was taken off guard when he touched her. Carefully she retracted her hand and nodded. "Well alright," she dismissed. She turned to walk away from him, wanting to be done with the conversation.

"He will tire of you, you know?" Nate called after her.

She stopped, but still kept her back to him. After a few moments, she responded. "I don't think he will," she maintained.

Nate emitted a ridiculing chuckle. "Why?" He smiled in a sort of sneering way as he stopped, close behind her. "Did you charm him into your bed?"

Blair felt her shoulders clench and fisted her hands at her sides. Had Chuck told him? She thought he was going to keep her giving her maidenhead a secret between them. She thought with how he had acted the other day, she was special to him.

He knew with her silence. "I am not surprised. He didn't tell me though, I only guessed accurately. I suppose it's in your nature."

She turned around, speaking defensively. "You know nothing, nor have your pathetic guesses been correct," Blair spat.

Nate only grinned in response, letting her know he didn't believe a single word that came from her lips. "Even with that," he continued, "He will grow bored of this charade. You are something new right now. You are French, you look it, but his loyalty with always be with England. And he will return to that soon, including it's multiple women."

"Are you suggesting I dress like an English woman then, make myself into one?" Blair rejoined. She was doing her best to recuperate, despite her mishap earlier. Never was she one to back down.

Nate chuckled, shaking his head. "You wouldn't even know how to."

Her eyebrows rose and ruby lips pursed. "Really?" She smirked, shrugging her shoulders. "I suspect it would be easy. I 'd only need to pull my hair back tight, wear a suffocating dress with a ridiculous collar, put a hat that looks like a book atop my head, and gain about fifty pounds."

His brow furrowed at the insults she hurled towards the women he typically fraternized with. He took a step towards her. "Chuck likes a healthy looking woman. You're the first starved one I've ever seen him with," he remarked, motioning her up and down.

"I don't starve myself," Blair retorted. She couldn't help it. It wasn't the first time she had to defend her weight. People had questioned her about it before, when she was going through _bad times_.

"And now the explanation for why you're such a bitch baffles me!" Nate exclaimed. He threw his hands up, going to great dramatic lengths to make fun of her.

"What do you want, Nate?" Blair asked seriously, cutting to the chase. She was tired of this back and forth banter. It had gone on far too long for her liking and breached subjects she hadn't wanted to.

His expression fell to a solemn one. "Fine," he said with thinned lips. "I'll tell you. I want my friend back, my old way of life to return with it."

She shook her head, starting to walk past him. "Then talk to him about it—"

Nate put up his arm, blocking her. "I can't, not since you came along," he furthered. He looked sideways to her, waiting for her response.

She stopped, seeing he was not going to let her go anywhere. "Well I don't see why. I have never even mentioned your name in his presence, didn't see it worth my time," Blair remarked.

"You don't have to. You have made sure you are all he thinks about and I know you don't really care for him," Nate spat. He had never taken such verbal abuse from a woman and it was truly starting to do more than aggravate him.

"You're wrong," Blair denied.

"Then do you care for him?" Nate pressured. He turned his body, pushing her up against the bookshelf. "Well?"

"Leave me alone," she rejected. She felt cornered and she was, literally. She tried to push past him, but there was no denying he was much stronger than her. And no matter what happened she was not about to scream and cause a scene.

"Answer the question," he ordered. He took hold of her wrists. "Do it now."

"I said leave me alone!" Blair's voice rose, not quite to a yell, but to a level where she sounded desperate.

"Nathaniel?"

Nate and Blair both stilled, slowly turning to see Chuck standing there. He came closer to them, focusing more on his friend's hands, holding Blair's wrists. "What are you doing?" he questioned.

Nate let go of Blair immediately, taking a step back. He shook his head, trying to play the situation off. "We were speaking. The conversation got heated," he explained. It wasn't a complete lie and for that reason it came from his lips rather easy.

Chuck's eyes narrowed. He tried to decipher if his friend was telling the truth or not. When he couldn't, he looked to Blair instead. He walked closer to her. "Blair?" he asked.

Blair looked up at him, nodding her head a tad too eagerly. "He's telling the truth. You know how it is, an Englishman against a French woman. It was only a silly argument," she lied. She knew better than to tell the truth. One, it could lead to her having to answer Nate's question later, but to Chuck. And two, well she wasn't about to ask Chuck to take her side against his best friend. She suspected he wouldn't take that well, even if he went with it at first.

"Are you sure?" Chuck looked from her to Nate. He shook his head. "He hasn't said anything to upset you?" He noted that Nathaniel wouldn't look at him. Something told him neither was telling the truth, but that only led to more questions.

"Chuck—" Nate sighed.

"Silence, Nathaniel," he interrupted instantly. He touched Blair's back, looking down at her. "I want you to tell me if he did. Forget who he is and—"

"He hasn't. I promise," Blair denied. She touched his chest, faking a smile. "I am only worn out from a long day without you. May I go and rest?" Her wellbeing was a good way to distract him so she went with it, hoping to change the subject and the object of his concern.

Chuck stared at her for a very long time, glancing at Nate once more. Then he sighed, nodding, and kissing her forehead. "Wait for me outside."

"Of course," she breathed. Then she let go of his hands and quickly left the room.

He watched her go, waiting until the door had closed. Then he turned back to Nate, shaking his head with a powerful stare. "I will not see you handle her that way again," Chuck declared. It was evident in his voice that now was not the time to test him.

Nate was confused at first. He was getting used to Chuck sticking up for Blair, but not being so protective of her. It seemed as if Chuck was actually angry that Nate might have hurt her. He couldn't help, but scoff at the fact. "Forgive me. I was only making sure she wasn't a witch."

"Don't throw that word around, especially when it comes to her. You know what it could do," Chuck seethed, storming up to him.

"Forgive me, your Highness. I only thought you seemed bewitched—"

"I said enough!" Chuck screamed. His voice echoed off the high ceilings of the great library. His chest heaved up and down and he realized he had backed Nathaniel into a wall. He wasn't sure what had taken over him. He let go of his hold on Nate and turned away from him.

Nate touched where Chuck had grabbed him, swallowing a lump in his throat. He nodded, "Fine. Forgive me, your Highness."

"I don't know that I feel like it," Chuck retorted. He may have not liked that he lost control, but he still wasn't happy with how he found Nate holding Blair.

"You surely will let me apologize," Nate beckoned from behind him.

Chuck shook his head, refusing to turn around and look at him. "Later, Nathaniel." He then started to walk away, towards the door, and to Blair.

"Please," Nate called after him.

Chuck didn't respond, but kept walking and went out the door, letting it slam behind him. He didn't realize it, but to Nate it was clear. Chuck had chosen a side and it wasn't his.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: I would just like to point out that I'm not forcing anyone to read this story. If you do not like it, you do not have to read. I have also stated it is NOT _La Belle et La Bête_ and why would it be? I don't want to write the same story twice. That is no fun for me. This is a different take on CB, but an accurate one, especially for the time and circumstances in my opinion. If you do not agree, it will not hurt my feelings for you to go and find another story. However, if you have chosen to stay I hope you enjoy the rest as well as this chapter. Thanks – Shelby


	11. The Royal Warning

Chapter Eleven:

**The Royal Warning**

_Whitehall Palace, London_

Blair stared out the window, but kept a careful distance so that she would not get wet. They were back in London, with the wedding of the King and Catherine now so close. However, with London came its dreadful weather. It had done nothing but pour down rain since they'd arrived. The only thing that did change was the climate; it went from hot and humid rain to chilly and windy rain. She sighed, wondering when she would see the sunshine again. In France it always felt warm and wonderful. If she closed her eyes she could imagine herself there in that moment.

"So this is where you have been hiding, ma chérie?" Chuck mused, coming up and grabbing her from behind. He took hold of her waist, placing his lips at the start of her nape. With a trail of kisses up to her ear, he emitted a dark chuckle. "I've been searching the entire palace for you."

She smiled, turning her cheek to try and make eye contact, but his hold wouldn't let her. So she shook her head. "You are the Prince of England, your Highness. Surely you could have had me found instantly if you only asked."

His hand roamed down to curve her thigh, despite the vast amount of her dress's material intervening. "Yes, but it would not be as much fun that way. I enjoy hunting my prey," he informed her.

Blair rolled her eyes with a light laugh and then spun around. Quickly he pushed her back to the wall, placing both hands on each side of her. She looked up at him, touching his chest. "Well as much as it pains me, you will have to set me free shortly. I have a meeting with your soon to be stepmother," she told him.

His lips pursed instantly and his eyes looked elsewhere. "I do not want to hear you call her that any more than I want you reminding me what her fool of a son is to you," Chuck muttered. It was clear he held disdain for basically anything to do with Thomas, his mother, and their family entirely.

She pouted her lips to sympathize for him and brought her hands up to fix his collar. "I know, Darling. Forgive me?" she asked. Her brown eyes looked to his, much more doe-like than as per usual.

He stared at her for a few moments and then nodded slowly. With a sigh he brought up his hand and trailed it along the neckline of her dress. Only it shouldn't even have been called such. The red dress, embellished with a gold design, was one of her most low-cut gowns. It practically came mid-breast and at times when she moved he expected to catch a glance of nipple.

"See something you like?" Blair asked, her voice a faux mask of innocence. She grinned playfully, touching his hand, and bringing it to rake across her breasts fully. "I wore it for you, you know."

He gave her a classic look in return. "Well I would hope you're not dressing for anyone else, Blair. In fact, I forbid it." He smirked and kissed her breasts, nuzzling his nose in them. "Though I do love this particular gown," he admitted.

She couldn't help but beam at the compliment. Of course she tried to tell herself it was only because it truly was a prize coming from his lips. From what she had heard he had been with many women, but not once had he been known for praising them on their choice of dress.

Chuck lifted his face from her bosom and wove his hands down to hold her petite waist. "So, what it is it you shall be speaking with Catherine about?" he inquired, tone more formal than before.

Blair shook her head, lightly shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know. I see it most likely having to do with her upcoming wedding," she answered. In all honesty she hadn't thought about it much, nor did she particularly care to.

"Well, do your best not to let anything slip. Hold your head high—" He lightly pushed up her chin. "And do not reveal your loathing of her son. But do not praise him too much either. I do not wish to hear of one of her maids telling that you proclaimed your love for that halfwit."

She gave him a knowing look. "You mean you do not wish to hear of gossip circulating your court, telling that I am… how you say, fond of him?" She let her accent show through rather thick towards the end, purposely teasing him.

Chuck's lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. He grabbed hold of both her arms, pulling her up against him. "And are you fond of him, Blair?" he asked, loud and clear.

Blair gasped, frightened at first, but then flattered. He was jealous and she would not deny that she liked it. She giggled, "You know the answer to your question, your Highness."

"Regardless, I command you answer it for me now," Chuck retorted. He spoke through clenched teeth. He wanted to be assured that she didn't like Thomas, not even as a friend. He wanted her to hate his soon to be stepbrother as much as he did, perhaps even more than he did, if it were possible.

"Fine," she sighed and shook her head, "I am not at all fond of him. I detest him in actuality. Satisfied?" Her tone was quite snippy towards the end.

He let go of her and nodded briefly. "Yes, though I would prefer you not be so smart with me," he returned. Though he said it, clearly he wasn't ordering it. For some strange reason, he allowed it to be just a suggestion for Blair—and it was one he knew she wouldn't likely take.

She pushed herself off the wall, placing her hands on her hips. "I shall consider it with the upmost thought, your Highness." She then kinked her head down the hall. "But may I go now? I do not want to be late, as it could be cause for suspicion."

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Perhaps if you were a man, but with my experience tardiness is something I find common in women."

Blair scoffed, "I am going." She then started to walk away from him, but felt him grab her once more. He pulled her swiftly back into his arms. "Wh—what?" She was evidently cut off guard, staring straight into his eyes. Their faces were mere inches apart.

Chuck smirked, bringing up his hand, and stroking his thumb down her cheek. Then he leaned in and kissed her strongly on the lips. "Now you may go, Sweetheart," he breathed as he broke away.

She stumbled back as he released her, grabbing onto the wall for a moment. How had she been so unready for that? She watched him chuckle to himself and walk away. Why could she not simply do the same? She furrowed her brow, crossed her arms, and started to slowly advance down the corridor. So many questions passed through her mind, but one stood out among the rest. Why did she still feel him on her lips?

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Bart released a deep, powerful breath. He stared down at his hand, clenching the arm of his throne. The wedding, between him and Catherine, was merely days away and he had not seen a moment of rest. There were so many things to tend to, duties to perform. His son had never been of much help, but lately he wasn't even reachable. He was always off, somewhere in the shadows where no one could seem to find him. And Bart was not a fool to know he didn't venture to those dark places alone. There was gossip at Court and it had finally reached the ears of the King.

"You were looking for me, father?" Chuck asked loudly, coming into the room. He looked back to see the doors close behind him. It was an unusual scene. Typically at this time of day the throne room was filled with people, but now only he and his father stood there.

"Try that greeting again, Chuck," Bart sighed. He wiped at the sweat on his brow and shook his head. The castle was cold, outside a windy rain, but he felt like he was burning up. It must have been from the lack of sleep.

Chuck rolled his eyes, but stood up straight and nodded his head. "You called on me, your Majesty?" He corrected himself with a bow before the throne.

His father poured himself a glass of wine and held out one to his son. Once Chuck had taken it, he took a small drink to clear his throat. "I believe you need a good talking to before this marriage takes place. It has come to my attention—"

"You mean your royal spies have once again whispered in your ear," Chuck interrupted, narrowing his eyes. He shook his head. "Or was it that god awful woman you'll be—"

"Hold your tongue!" Bart shouted, staring down at him. He breathed heavily, patting the arm of his chair. "I will not have you constantly speaking out of turn! I did not raise you that way."

Chuck scoffed, "You didn't raise me at all." His eyes fell from his father's. All he could think about was how he wanted off of this subject, away from this room. He wanted to get back to Blair. She always distracted him from the darkness that constantly loomed around him in his own mind.

Bart's face fell, having heard the comment. He stood up, walking over to his son and touching his shoulder. "We have been over this. You were raised the way you were to ensure that you stand here today."

"Perhaps there was a reason I was a sickly child." Chuck looked up at him. "Some would have thought it an eye for an eye, you know. I was a sickly child for a reason. It was vengeance for what I did to her—"

A solemn and miserably enlightened look came to the Bart's face. His hold on Chuck's shoulder tightened as he squeezed it. "I won't have you speaking that way. Your moth—the late Queen—"

"I don't want to hear any more of this!" Chuck rejected, pulling away from him. He didn't need the pity his father was forcing himself to feel. He turned his back, pretending to look out the window. "Just tell me what you brought me here to say, your Majesty."

Bart stared at his son's back for a few moments. A part of him wanted to further reach out to him, but he just couldn't do it. He could never do it really, not since he grew up looking like his mother. He sighed and sat back down in his throne, staring at the ceiling. "The people expect a certain behavior from you, Charles."

Chuck shook his head. "I know my reputation, father…as do you. It is what they expect. They know that I gamble, drink, fraternize with the women at court—"

"Not ones engaged to be married, to a future Royal no less. You are protected because of your blood my son, but others may not be if your actions put them in harm's way," Bart reminded him. He stared at his son's back sternly, wanting desperately to get his point across and for just this once his son to listen.

Dark eyes narrowed and Chuck spun around to look at him. "Has someone made a threat known? Has someone of any importance breathed a word? And by that I do unfortunately mean that weakling Thomas," he spat.

"Do not speak of a future Prince of England that way, a future brother," Bart warned. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "And no, not yet. But that is only because he is good hearted."

Chuck obviously and blatantly rolled his eyes. "And where will that get him? Look if this is about Lady Blair I am allowed to spend time with anyone I want. I am the Prince of England, the true one, by blood. You surely cannot deny that, father," he told him, getting quite worked up.

Bart pointed a finger at him, lifting his eyebrows. "It is not that you spend time with her, but how people see you treat her, speak to her, touch her—"

"They know nothing! They only find confusion because she's the first woman they've seen me respect to some degree," Chuck retorted. It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either.

"And that is not like you. The people have come to accept your behavior Charles and they will even accept thinking you are doing something unholy with Lady Blair, but they will shun and hate her for it. Most of them already do. You know that," Bart maintained, standing up.

"Who?" Chuck demanded. He threw his hand out, motioning to the doors. "Tell me who dares to hate her, who shuns her? And tell me why! Why if she is about to be a daughter of England—"

"Because she is a true daughter of France. She is French, Charles. Our people, at least most of them, do not look kindly on them. If I recall, you didn't exactly either before she got here." It was an obvious challenging statement made by father, to son.

Chuck retracted some, both in step and in expression. He shook his head. "If you won't do your duty as King to make them respect her, I will. All she has done is bring a little culture to this Kingdom. She does not preach of their politics or refuse to speak English. She has done nothing wrong—"

"I hope so, as do I hope they will see that," Bart said quietly. He looked down, fisting his hand, and nodding his head. "If she is anything like her father—" He stopped himself, looking up to see if his son had heard him. When he knew he didn't, he pushed away the thought.

"May I go now, your Majesty?" Chuck was tired of the conversation. It was evident both by the look in his eyes, his posture, and the tone of his voice.

"Shortly," Bart agreed. He then moved forward in his seat, taking a scroll from a side table. "This contains the information about a trip I shall take with Duchess Gray and Thomas after we are married. I will need you to stay here, keep things settled at Court. You won't have to make any decisions, unless they are urgent and I cannot be reached in time," he explained, holding it out for his son.

Chuck took it, opening up the papers, and looking them over. Then he looked up from them, doing all he could not to smile. "Lady Blair isn't going, is she?" he asked. He knew it said a lot, probably too much, but he didn't care. He only wanted a confirmation.

Bart sighed, shaking his head. "Cardinal Wolsey has told me it would not be decent, considering they will not yet be married."

"I agree," Chuck replied with a smirk.

"Do not forget what we have spoken of, the consequences that could come you will not like if you allow yourself to forget," Bart warned, giving him a serious look.

"Of course, father," Chuck replied, paying little attention, as he bowed his head. He then tucked the scroll into his black overcoat and left the room. He thought not of his father's warning, but only that sometime soon he would be alone with Blair, no one of a greater power around to watch them.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

"Your Grace, Lady Blair has arrived. Shall I bring her in?" a servant girl asked Catherine. She kept her eyes on the ground, at the woman's feet.

"Yes, please do," Catherine responded. She then turned around, sitting on a bench at the end of her bed. She pulled at her black dress, adjusting it.

The doors opened and Blair entered. She looked around the dark, solemn room. There was a fire lit, but this part of the castle seemed mustier than the side she resided on. She looked ahead and saw Catherine. Sparing a small bow, she stood in the center of the room. "Duchess of Somerset."

Catherine eyed the younger girl carefully, before holding up her hand. She motioned for her to come closer. "Sit, Lady Blair," she instructed.

Blair looked around, pursing her lips when she realized there were no other chairs. If Chuck had been around she would have commented, but since he was not she merely kneeled before the Duchess, on the ground.

"Your dress Lady Blair, the neckline is quite low," Catherine commented. Her eyebrows rose, giving off an expression of disproval.

"It was a special gift, your Grace. I could not insult his Royal Highness by not wearing it," Blair returned. She met the older woman's eyes with caution, but dignity.

Catherine shook her head, but spoke in an almost pessimistic way. "No, I suppose you would not want to do that." She then sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "Tell me, why have you not spent more time with my son, your future husband? I have heard he asks for you all the time."

Blair stared at her for a few moments before shaking her head. "I would like to fully get to know him after the wedding, your Grace. Is he unhappy with me about it though?" She picked the question and her words carefully, knowing Catherine could not get around them without lying.

"No. He never speaks of being unhappy with you," Catherine remarked.

"Does it upset you that he is not unhappy with me, your Grace?" Blair asked point blank. Her eyebrows rose and she smiled in a way that showed she was indeed being condescending in her question.

The Duchess's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. She didn't respond to the question, but leaned forward. "You know, I must admit you remind me of someone. Would you like to know who?"

Blair shrugged, "If you wish to tell me, you may." She leaned back, not liking this woman so close to her.

Catherine stood, nodding her head, and circling around Blair. She stopped at the fire, holding onto the mantle, and staring into the flames. "You remind me of my late husband's mistress. She was French too."

"Your late husband's mistress?" Blair spat, turning to look at her. She shook her head. "I thought you were a friend of France—"

"I am for those in France who wish to be my friend," Catherine countered shortly. She then walked over, staring directly down at the younger girl. "And I would very much like my daughter-in-law to be my friend, but I am my son's mother first. Do you understand?"

Blair did, but she was not going to give Catherine that pleasure. She shook her head, looking right up at her. "Non. Je ne comprend pas ce que vous voulez me dire, votre Gråce." _(English Translation: No. I do not understand what you mean, your Grace)_

Catherine's eyes narrowed into slits and she grabbed hold of Blair's cheek. She forced the girl to hold her gaze with her. "Then let me make sure you understand this. "Tu ne porteras pas Malheur a mon fils et tu ne feras pas passer mon fils pour un idiot," she warned. _(English Translation: You will not bring shame to my son's name, nor will you make a fool of him") _Then she let go of Blair and stood back up fully, walking towards the bed.

She waited a few moments and then Blair rose. She walked back to the door, but stopped and turned to look at Catherine one last time. "Les homes n'ont pas besoin de nous pour ce render idiot. Bonne soireé, votre Gråce." _(English Translation: Men make fools of themselves. Good evening, your Grace.) _With that she simply bowed her head and left. And once out of the room she couldn't hide the smirk that formed from the last look on Catherine's face.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck's dark eyes eyed the quivering servant girl. She was on her knees, before him. Her body was trembling and if he stopped pacing he could hear her small whimpers instead of his footsteps. He stopped in front of her, leaning down, and pushing up her chin. Their eyes met.

"Your—your Highness," the girl quivered, eyes filling with tears. She was terrified, that was evident.

He let go of her and reached into his pocket, retrieving a small sack of gold. It dropped at her feet and he was now met with a look of confusion. "I wouldn't pay you for that," Chuck remarked. He stood once more, shaking his head with a dark chuckle. "No, there is something else I want from you."

The girl reached out, taking the small bag and bringing it to her chest. "Wh—what do you need from me, your Highness?" she questioned. The money would take her entire family out of debt.

Chuck of course knew this and in that knew she would do whatever to keep it. He sat down on his bed. "You are a maid to the Duchess of Somerset. She met with Lady Blair today. What did she say to her?"

Her eyes widened and she cleared her throat. "I—I could be punished for betraying my Lady, your Highness—"

"It won't leave this room, but if you want your money you will tell me. And may God help you if you refuse," Chuck warned. He made it clear she would either benefit from giving her answer or suffer from withholding one.

The girl nodded, instantly understanding. Her eyes fell to the ground in shame. "Her Grace was warning the Lady Blair. She bids her not to shame her son or make a fool of him. She also insulted her dress," she revealed.

"Her dress?" Chuck returned loudly. He stopped himself though, shaking his head. He knew anything anyone said would not change Blair's sense of style, but him. So he moved on to more important matters. "How did Lady Blair respond to the Duchess's warning?"

"She—she told her something in French. I—I do not know the language though so I do not understand it, your Highness. I am so sorry," the servant apologized quickly. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she wouldn't be surprised if he struck her.

Chuck didn't do that, but instead made a noise of frustration. He stood, shaking his head. "Do you remember the words? Any of them? Could you repeat them?" he interrogated.

The girl's chest heaved up and down from her heavy breathing. She nodded her head. "I—I believe she said this, your Highness. Les homes n'ont pas besoin de nous pour ce render idiot. Bonne soireé, votre Gråce." _(English Translation: Men make fools of themselves. Good evening, your Grace.) _It sounded terrible and struggled from the girl's lips, but it was technically correct.

He stopped, smirking to himself. Then he laughed, shaking his head. "You may go. Take your reward and speak of this to no one," he ordered.

"Ye-yes, your Highness. Thank you," the girl bowed and scampered from the room. However, the heavy door did not shut behind her. He didn't notice it, but a hand caught hold of it.

Blair entered the room, glaring at him. "Who was she?" she asked, her tone begrudging. She came up behind him, the door now fully slamming.

Chuck turned around, taken off guard by her abrupt entrance. When he saw her though, he instantly smiled until he saw the look of jealousy in her eyes. He realized then what she thought. "Surely you do not think I would take that," he held out his hands to her, "When I have this."

She stopped, not going into his arms, but staying at a good distance. She couldn't help the envious feeling in her gut. What had he done with that harlot of a servant girl? Why was she in his room? Wasn't he happy with her?

He saw the thoughts swarming through her mind by the look on her face. Swiftly, he went to her, bringing her into his arms fully. "Don't, Sweetheart. I was questioning her about you and Catherine. It was nothing more than that. Look at me, I'm fully dressed," he assured her.

Blair eyed him up and down quickly before realizing what he said was true. She sighed, looping her arms around his neck. "You could have merely asked me," she sighed with a pout.

He tucked a curl behind her ear before positioning his hands on her waist. "I did not know if you could be truthful with me about it. And I didn't want to trouble you," he explained.

She rolled her eyes. "I will always be truthful with you. No one, especially Catherine, will change that, Chuck," she swore.

Chuck smirked, feeling obvious accomplishment from her words. He brought his hand back up to her cheek, caressing it before leaning forward and pecking her lips. "Good. I like knowing I have someone I can trust."

"You do trust me?" Blair asked, looking deep into his eyes. It was what she intended to accomplish from the start, but not so soon.

"Don't you trust me?" Chuck returned, both answering her question and asking his. He shook his head with a light chuckle. "And I don't hold the petty jealousy against you."

"I wasn't jealous," Blair maintained instantly. Slowly her pursed ruby lips unclenched and formed a smile. "And I do trust you. In that particular situation it is only that I mistrust others."

He smirked, "As more than often we're the same, Sweetheart. Remember that." He pulled back from whispering in her ear and kissed her lips once more.

"The wedding is soon," she breathed. She leaned against him, her forehead touching his. Her eyes were closed as she contemplated that thought and his words. "Catherine will be Queen and Thomas a Prince."

He grabbed onto her arms tighter. "I am the only Royal you have to concern yourself with, Blair," he informed her.

She nodded, but looked up at him. "After this wedding you know they shall start planning another." It was another step in her plan, not letting him forget she was still to be married to Thomas. She wanted it to aggravate him.

His eyes darkened and his hold on her tightened. "I don't want to talk about that," he said, voice tense. He had not unleashed his anger, but it was evident inside he was starting to boil.

"I do not mean to speak out of turn, your Highness. I am only worried about how I shall be expected to behave as things draw closer. You know I shall have to be escorted by Thomas for this wedding—"

"I don't care!" Chuck snapped. His eyes lit up like fire, looking half crazed. "You may have to walk by him, dancing with him once, but the entire time I will have no second thoughts about who you belong to." His hands touched his chest as he breathed heavily, having excited himself.

"You," she breathed.

He nodded, touching one hand to her cheek and the other on the small of her back. He pulled her up against him. "If I am going to be faithful to you, everyone else will know you are faithful to me."

"With my mind, body, and soul," Blair promised. She then closed her eyes as he leaned in, kissing her strongly and possessively on the lips.

XOXOXOXOXO

A/N: The next chapter will be Bart and Catherine's wedding. Perhaps a little jealousy from the Prince as well? Who knows, wait and see. Anyways, a special thanks to both my beta and my translator for helping me get this chapter out. I couldn't do it without, you guys! Also if something is not translated directly then it has been translated so that it has a similar meaning of what the English translation is trying to get across. So just keep that in mind!


	12. Blood Ties and Bastards

Chapter Twelve:

**Blood Ties and Bastards**

_Laugharne Castle, South Wales_

Cold, blue eyes stared down at the wedding invitation in Jack's gloved hands. He knew his brother had only invited him with formality and the people in mind. No doubt he would be permitted a few nights in London and then sent on his way, back to a place more boring than a nunnery. He rolled his eyes, crumpling the papers in hand, and dropping them to the floor of his lavish carriage.

Three loud and firm knocks on the door interrupted his past thoughts. "Your Grace, we have arrived at Laugharne Castle. Though by the looks of it I do not believe they are expecting us."

Jack opened the door abruptly, pushing the speaking servant aside. Instantly he felt the cold wind from the sea hit him and brought his coat around him in response. He shook his head. "They need know not of when I come or go. I can still do as I please in this place," he muttered bitterly.

"Ye—yes, your Grace. I shall have them open the gates." The other man excused himself, going to the door of security with quick pace.

Remaining in his spot, still a good ways away from the castle, Jack looked up at it. It was nothing like Hampton Court or Whitehall, pitiful really. It was stone, small in his eyes, and had an over looming feeling of darkness and doom he couldn't shake. His gaze caught on a window in one of the taller towers and he saw dark eyes staring down onto him. Then the shadowy figure turned away, fleeing from him and most likely the light.

"Your Grace! They welcome you in!" the servant called, looking at him eagerly.

Jack nodded, picking up his pace to enter the castle's surrounding walls. "Very well. Bring in just enough luggage and prepare the carriage for leave tomorrow." He barked his orders and skipped all pleasantries, making his way to the desired quarters. Pushing open the door, he frightened two maids and the head woman of the house.

"Your Grace!" The elder woman bowed instantly, the two younger following her. She put her hand to her chest, breathing harshly from the scare. "We did not know of your visit. I would have prepared for better stay—"

"Nothing could make my short stay here even a shadow of the word," Jack returned shortly. He stopped before her. "Now, get off the floor and call on the boy. I wish to have word with him, immediately."

The woman stared at him carefully and then whispered to the two younger girls to do his bidding. She watched as Jack sat down by the dim fire and thought to choose her words carefully. "Your Grace, if I may—he is now a man."

Jack stared at the flames, his outer appearance giving no clue to the inner reaction her words had. Slowly, he looked at her. "I care not for his age, though I do know it. I only have important matters to discuss with him. The Royal Wedding for starters—"

"Your Grace, it would not be proper for someone of his standing to attend. The people know that he is—"

"A bastard," Jack answered for her. He gave a sort of sly, but darkly amused smirk. He shook his head. "The King has offered me to give him title for years. Now, I shall and then he can attend."

The woman saw the look in Jack's eyes, sensing that he was up to something. She could not object of course, without punishment, but she thought to say something.

"I have no desire to attend, _father_."

Jack froze, his back to the now much deeper voice than he remembered. He clenched his fists, concentrating harder than ever on the flames from the fireplace.

A gasp from the old woman followed. "Sir Draven, you do not greet someone of such rank in such an informal manner. It reflects poorly on I and my teachings—"

"I do not hold it against you," Jack said as he rose. He turned around, looking the young man in the eye with a cruel smirk. "Better men have tried to tame a beast and failed."

"Leave us, Lady Mary," Draven said through clenched teeth. He kept his intense gaze with Jack's though, never even blinking.

The elder woman nodded, bowing to the men. "Yes, Sir Draven. I shall make tea for you and his Grace." With that she left the room, though eyeing the men carefully as she went. Only God knew what could happen when the two came across one another.

As soon as the door closed, Draven held nothing back. "What do you want?" he spat. He walked round to the sitting area, throwing a pillow off of it, and reclining back. "Do not forget I long tired of your vague and erratic visits."

"I have not forgotten since you told me," Jack replied easily. He sat down in the chair across from him, smirking some. "When you were seven, I believe."

Draven scoffed, "If you were blind you might still think me seven. God knows my age is surely a mystery to you, _father_." He said the word with such a patronizing tone.

Jack rolled his eyes at the dramatics, only smiling sarcastically in return. "Even I know the age of my son, Draven—"

"Your unclaimed son," the younger man corrected instantly. He gripped the arms of his chair, clenching his teeth in union.

"I recognized you—"

"Such a half ass substitute only further offends me," Draven clarified, cutting him off before he even had time to defend himself. Really, he didn't see the point anyways. Jack cared nothing for him. His "father" had always made that abundantly clear and as he grew up Draven of course realized it.

Jack fell silent for a few moments, staring at the man across from him. He could have silenced him by mere rank, but he didn't. He couldn't deny to himself that Draven's response was something that would have mirrored his own if in a similar conversation. He looked him over further. Well, at least his looks didn't show the monster Jack always thought him for. He had grown up rather handsome. Draven's dark hair and eyes had been there since boyhood, but he was now tall and slender, nicely built. Jack couldn't help, but notice a resemblance to his nephew, but there were direct differences. Draven's bone structure was much more like Jack's, his nose nothing like Chuck's, and his eyes not quite as menacing either.

"Why have you come? What do you want from me now, after such time has past?" Draven broke the silence. His voice was low and his eyes remained fixated on the ground. He wouldn't look at Jack, the refusal evident now.

"I only offer you a chance to take on the stronger title of Duke and perhaps a way out of this godforsaken place," Jack explained seriously, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He looked around the room. God, he honestly did detest the castle.

Draven chuckled, but the laugh was dry and there was a solemn shadow in his eyes.

"Not the first offer out of here, I've received. Though I wouldn't expect you to recall. You did not find _her_, hanging outside of her bedroom window." His eyes lifted to Jack's, locking with them.

Jack closed his eyes instantly, touching his forehead. "Now, is not the time—"

"She used her bedroom cloths, you know? Her black hair got caught in them and as the wind blew her body back and forth, scraping against the stone walls, it caused quite the dreadful mess," he furthered. "I couldn't pull her back in. You let them cut her down."

"I never gave such an order," Jack reprimanded instantly, looking at him. He stood, shaking his head, and moving closer to the fireplace. "I played no part in your mother's death. She meant nothing to me."

"A fact I am well aware of, I assure you," Draven countered easily. It was a twisted and sick way of speaking on such a topic, but customary for them.

Jack remained silent, giving him a moment to breathe. Then he walked cross the room, standing the closest to Draven he had been for a while. He looked around the room, before his eyes returned to his son. "I have come with my offer, it is within your right to accept or decline."

Draven's eyes lifted to his, a sort of sardonic look upon his face. "And if I do not, what punishment am I to receive? Shall I be locked away in this hell hole forever, a fate fit for the beast you've made me in your mind?"

"No punishment," Jack returned. His voice was low, full of breath. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "I only urge that accepting is in your best interest, indeed even more if you truly hate this place so much."

Draven stood, moving past him, and fisting one of his hands. He stared at it, as if literally weighing the options in his hands. Then he turned, shaking his head.

"What am I to do on this trip? What shall you expect from it, from me?" He wasn't a fool. He knew this was not out of the kindness of Jack's heart. His "father" wanted something and it was best they just get to it in Draven's opinion.

Jack shook his head, sighing. "I am afraid even with my longtime absence you have only still come to know me so well—"

"It is not hard to learn the ways of a villain," Draven cut in, interrupting him without the least bit look of concern while doing so.

Jack's lips thinned, but he nodded his head. He brought his hands together and moved right along with it. "You shall be my eyes and ears in the many days until I myself can attend to London. You will do what you see fit in my cause and find information I need to see it carried out."

"Your cause?" His eyebrows rose in question and he almost seemed half amused by the sarcastic smirk upon his lips.

Jack made sure the room was clear and then moved closer to Draven once more. He kept his voice low, discreet. "You know I have never seen the crown upon the proper and deserving head."

Draven scoffed a laugh, "And you think I shall help see it to yours? You have not even a proper fucking heir or wife to be queen. Yet you ask I resign my fate to the possibility of being beheaded, charge mutiny?"

"You can only be charged and executed if caught. I had thought some of you smart enough to not be," Jack countered quickly. He then shrugged. "And perhaps with the desired title I could correct past mistakes and name my heir."

"Who says you have one to name?" Draven spat. He moved away from Jack, shaking his head. "I knew you only came with self in mind."

Jack watched him, sighing. "It is not true. Believe it or not, but in the end my self-worth does reflect onto your own. And right now I am not in my brother's good graces and therefore far from any victory."

"What a fucking shame." Sarcasm dripped from his voice, but as he turned around Jack saw how serious Draven really was. He touched a hand to his chest.

"Everything you have done has put you where you are, but I—I have done nothing to be here." He looked around, then kicking a stool over and yelling. "I have been in this fucking hell, trying to be in your good graces for years, and now you come to me and ask for me to help your position?" He laughed loudly and cynically before silencing completely.

"I would rather hang myself from a bloody window."

Jack stared into his eyes for a long time and then looked away, resigning himself. He nodded, but adjusted his coat, and prepared for leave of the room.

"My offer still stands until I take leave tomorrow. If you change your mind, let word known to my guard. I will make arrangements." With that he left the room, off to lock himself in his temporary one until morning.

Draven stood alone, feeling the tension finally, but slowly start to leak out of the room. He then crossed his arms and sat back down, staring off into the distance. He wasn't really looking at anything in particular, but just staring at nothing rather. Everything was once again quiet and at least seemingly empty.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Whitehall Palace, London_

Blair walked along the ivy-covered walls in one of the palace's private gardens. She heard the bustling servants beyond them, everyone frantically setting up for the pre-wedding festivities. The King would marry his new Queen in a week's time and the thought made her stomach turn. This marriage would have sealed her fate, marrying Thomas, if it weren't for her present affair with Chuck. Just because she was romantically involved with the Prince though didn't entirely save her. She was playing a dangerous game and Thomas's mother becoming Queen put her all the more at risk. One wrong move and she could lose her head like—

"Don't," Blair breathed to herself. She stopped, leaning back against the wall, as her eyes closed. Her hands felt to her stomach. There was no way she'd be ready for dinner when it came round. Her nerves were too on edge. She wouldn't be able to keep a single morsel down. It would be best to retire to her chambers early.

"Is something wrong, Blair?"

Her eyes opened immediately at the sound of his voice. She stared at Chuck as he approached her slowly. _Where had he come from?_ She didn't care. The sight of him calmed her. He did do a good job of protecting her. She had even heard him defend her to a few members at court, though always in private of course.

"You are holding your stomach." Chuck set his hands upon her waist and shook his head. "You are not with child—"

"No," Blair blurted immediately. She shook her head fiercely. "I would not do that to you, your Highness. I would not disgrace—"

"We both know it wouldn't disgrace me as it would you, but thank you." Chuck dismissed the conversation, his tone hinting he wasn't in the mood for it.

He smiled lightly, changing the subject swiftly. "Something else is wrong then?"

Blair shook her head. Her real answer would make him angry again. Chuck didn't like to hear her thoughts on the King and Queen's wedding, or how it concerned her and his much hated future stepbrother.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me. If someone has mistreated you, I will see him or her punished. I do not care who it is or what I must to say to see it done." He spoke passionately, with meaning.

"No one has mistreated me," Blair assured him. She shrugged, bringing her hand up to hold onto his arm. "I was only deciding to retire to my chambers early when you approached."

"Why?" Chuck asked. Such a response was childish in a way, but he was often childish. She wouldn't hold it against him either. It was a quality she decided all princes must have to an extent, no matter their age.

Blair parted her lips, pausing for a moment as she searched her mind for the right answer.

"If you are ill I will call on the doctor, my doctor. He is the best in all of England. I would have you see no one else."

Blair couldn't help but smile at the concern in his voice. It seemed he truly did care about her to some extent. She actually admitted inwardly she cared about him too—no, she couldn't—but she did. She pushed the thought away. It was best not to think about it so directly. She would bring it up again with herself later, when he wasn't around.

"I am not ill. You would know if I were. Will you still allow me to return to my chambers though, your Highness?" She stared up at him with faux innocent, doe brown eyes.

Chuck was about to scold her for the title when he realized what she was doing. He smirked. They both knew she was seldom so obedient to him. Blair was being playful and Chuck was always one to agree to a game.

He shook his head. "You will not return to your chambers, but to mine. I will come with you. You know I do not care to have you sleeping alone, Blair."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head as they began to walk down the path side by side.

"You speak the words of a sweet man, your Highness. I must admit your reputation I first heard upon arriving to England does not match up with your current actions," Blair teased. They both paused in their walk, turning to look at one another in union. She wondered what he was thinking when he stared at her like that.

"I am not a sweet man, Blair." Chuck captured a curl of hers between his fingertips, tucking it gently behind her ear. He smirked, leaning forth and kissing her on the lips.

"But," he breathed; pecking her lips once more, "You are my sweetheart."

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Laugharne Castle, South Wales_

Jack sat back in the carriage, sheer misery painted cross his face. He was not happy with how this visit had turned out. However, he could not feel any more urgency to leave this dreaded place. He didn't get a wink of sleep the night before. It rained the whole night, filling the castle with musty hair and a constant thundering noise. Even the earth around the castle didn't want to be there. No wonder Draven had turned out the way he did, not that Jack would have ever raised him at his side. He didn't love Draven's mother and he hadn't wanted the boy. Now, just as he expected the bastard proved of little use. The damn boy wasn't even willing to lend Jack a hand in order to better himself. Well, let him hold his grudge here till he rotted. Jack didn't care. He'd just have to find another way into the English court. It would be difficult and dangerous, but worth the risk.

"Let us leave this godforsaken place, man!" Jack bellowed. He reached his hand outside the carriage and hit the door violently. _Why hadn't they left yet_? He had personally watched every item he brought loaded into an hour's time earlier.

The door of the carriage suddenly opened to reveal a very nervous looking servant.

"Your—your Grace, he is in the way. He will not move," the man explained in a shaky, high-strung voice.

Jack's eyes narrowed and he pushed the man aside. "Who? Tell whomever it is to move or strike him down—" He lost all words as he locked eyes with whom they spoke of.

Draven stood in front of the horses, blocking their path. He wore a stern gaze and his hands hung in fisted balls at his sides. By his feet were two luggage trunks. It appeared the boy had dragged them himself through the mud.

"I thought you were to stay here?" Jack's eyebrows rose in question and he allowed himself to sound quite pleased with the situation. He was—things would be much easier now.

Draven shook his head and moved forward, standing before Jack. "I will leave this place at any chance I have, even if it means having to be in your company." His voice was a sneer, making it evident how truly unhappy the sight of _his father_ made him.

Jack shrugged, "If you do not speak, I certainly won't. Come along then." He climbed back into the carriage, but stuck his head out to yell at the servants. "Load his things!" Jack then fell back into the carriage and made him comfortable.

Draven climbed in, sitting across from him. His posture was stiff and he appeared on edge. Jack supposed it was because he hadn't been in a carriage in a very long time. Draven hadn't been permitted to leave this place since boyhood.

"You do know how to act at the English court? I know animals can only be so civilized." Jack sighed, pulling the curtains closed as the carriage took off.

Draven scoffed, "If they've put up with you, they can surely deal with me." He looked away from Jack, staring at the floor. "Not that it is any of your business, but I am rather interested to see who I still know, who knows me—"

"They will know you, as my bastard. Do not forget your place while there, Draven." Jack's voice sounded with warning and by the look on _his son's_ face, he knew it had taken him off guard. "You will also not forget your cause."

"The only cause I have is my own, Jack. You will not forget that," Draven spat. Then with a strong nod, he looked away.

Jack studied him for a few more moments, not bothering to argue further. He didn't care to admit it, even to himself, but perhaps even though absent Jack had passed a few of his own ways onto _his son_. He shuddered at the thought.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Whitehall Palace, London_

"You are not to compete in the games, your Grace?" Blair asked, sparing a side look in Nate's direction. They were the only two to so far be seated, at least in short lengths of each other. Chuck, the Prince of all importance, had yet to arrive.

Nate stared out at the sands, though his gaze did linger to the woman beside him. He found it hard to let her hidden insults pass him. He shook his head, sighing.

"You are a woman if there ever was one, Lady Blair."

Her eyebrows rose and she stifled a giggle.

"Why thank you," she told him, pleased with the insult. She then leaned over towards him. "You are but a fool of a man if there ever was one, Nathaniel—"

"Not as much the fool as your fiancé," Nate countered, glaring at her. He cast a look to Thomas, off by his mother at her throne, though his face stayed mere inches apart from Blair's.

"How does one call himself a man and not sense when his woman is being royally fucked by the Prince of England himself?" He kept his voice low, but with meaning.

Blair kept quiet for a long while and then shook her head, feeling short of breath. "You know nothing, your Grace—"

"What a beautiful day for good games and even better wine."

Nate and Blair both turned, looking back to the owner of the foreign voice. She smiled, though fumbled by who the man was. Then she spared a laugh, all for show to ease the previously tense moment.

"Sir Draven, one did not think to see you here," Nate proclaimed, stunned by the presence of Jack's bastard.

Draven smirked, taking his seat behind Nathaniel and the mysterious maiden beside him. He leaned forward, touching the back of her chair, and allowing his fingertips to trail across her back.

"And I did not think to see you in the company of such a stunning creature. May I ask this eloquent maiden's name?"

Blair turned around, surprised by the touch, but beamed at the compliment. "This Lady can speak for herself, and her name is Blair," she answered. She had no intent to make way with him, but was only flirtatious in nature.

He leaned closer to her, reaching his hand out to finger one of her mahogany colored curls. "You are very beautiful, Lady Blair. Though judging by your tongue I know you must unfortunately belong to someone—"

"She does."

"Chuck," Blair greeted instantly, a warm smile coming to her face. She stood, going to him as if drawn by the wind. Only when she reached for him, she was caught in a tight hold. She frowned some, confused.

Chuck clenched his free hand in a fist at his side and used his other to hold tightly to Blair. He pulled her hip to his, but kept his eyes with Draven's. He hadn't seen Jack's bastard in years, and this certainly wasn't the sort of reunion he'd wanted.

Draven leaned back in his seat, looking to the Prince, _his cousin_.

"Your Royal Highness, do not tell me you have taken a wife? Though, I would not object to your selection." He grinned at Blair once more, bowing his head.

"He has not," Nate interjected, ignoring the glare he received from Chuck in return. Instead he turned forward, taking a long drink from his wine. He cleared his throat.

"She is to be his sister-in-law—"

"I call no man husband yet, nor does any man own me, Sir." Blair spoke up, speaking with great pride. Her eyes connected with the third man's, but she looked away quickly. "French women are not as easily tamed—"

"Yet you have been," Chuck retorted.

Her eyes quickly rose to his, but the warning in his dark orbs forced her to immediately hinder any objection.

Chuck looked to Draven. "Between us, Bastard—she is **mine**." There was no hesitation in his speak, but absolute authority.

Blair glanced from Chuck to the other man, watching the light in his eyes dim some at the title he was called. She shook her head. "You are not brothers—"

"No," Draven confirmed quickly. He took a long drink of his wine and spoke with a raspy voice. "We are cousins, my Lady." He looked to her, forcing a smile. "Though I am illegitimate, a bastard as the Prince previously proclaimed."

"Even bastard's have names, Sir Draven. Perhaps if you used yours, then others would start to as well," Blair told him, her lips tugging into the softest of smiles. It was nice to meet someone outside the English court. Sir Draven was English, but it was clear where he had been raised was elsewhere, and more importantly not among the so many that hated her by nature. It seemed he was disliked as well, ostracized. Strangely they had something in common.

He bowed his head, complimenting her smile with one of his own.

"You are a smart woman, a rare find, Lady Blair. I see why my cousin wishes to steal you away." Draven turned forward again, peering out at the sands as the jousters prepared themselves.

Blair was watching him when she felt Chuck grab onto her side. She looked up, not making eye contact with him, but moving with his hand to direct her. He pushed her down into a chair and took his seat beside her. She watched as he put his feet up, kicking at Draven's chair some. He seemed to release it all in aggravation and his feet hit the ground with a thump. Draven turned his cheek, looking back ever so cautiously at the Prince. Chuck leaned forward in his seat and smirked, getting dangerously close.

"I don't wish for anything, Bastard. What I want it mine, what I say goes, and who I say can _go_ too—"

He looked back at Blair and her eyes averted from his.

A dark chuckle emitted from his lips. "Now that you are back on the English Court, do well to remember that."

His hand came up, and he gave Draven a harsh pat on the shoulder. Then he fell back in his seat again, leaning to his side against Blair's shoulder. She turned and met his eyes, a shiver running down her spine. To this point, she had seen Chuck jealous, but never so threatening towards others. It seemed it was easy to forget how much power he had, until she watched him threaten to enforce it firsthand—and with so few words.

"Your Highness, the games have started. I swear this shall be a good joust, only better if I were upon the sands myself," Nate mentioned.

Blair listened, but barely. She was still watching Chuck, and her Prince was watching her in return. A small, gracious smile came to her lips. She wanted to make sure he wasn't upset with her. It wasn't always so easy to tell what was going on in his mind.

"Another day will come and you will be," Chuck agreed with a nod in Nate's direction. His hand came up and he took hold of Blair's chin.

She stared at him, wide eyed. Surely, he wouldn't kiss her in front of so many people. No—he wouldn't with his father so near. His hand dropped from view, to her lap. He would go there though, that she knew.

"Your Highness," Blair whispered, her voice sounding in plea.

"Chuck," he corrected. His hand wrapped around her thigh slowly. He shook his head, gazing intently at her. "You need comfort no man, but me."

Blair realized what had particularly angered him—her attempts to make Draven feel better about his "bastard" title. She bit her bottom lip. Her behavior was a rare occurrence. Perhaps Chuck was merely used to seeing her detest everyone in the English Court, but him. It seemed he liked it that way too.

"Blair?" Chuck asked.

He wanted a confirmation and in all honesty she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. She nodded, "I understand, Chuck."

"Good." He smirked and his hand released her thigh. The moment was over and he turned back to watching the games. With how he recovered it was as if it had never happened.

Blair wondered if anyone had even seen it—and then she knew someone had.

Dark eyes stared at her, casting a look over strong shoulders. Draven had seen it, everything really. He'd only been around them a few moments and it was clear he knew quite a bit about what was going on. She wondered if Draven was a threat. After all, he could be an outsider and still be just as dangerous as anyone inside the English Court. She sighed, closing her eyes. Only time would properly label him her ally or her enemy.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: Sorry this update took so long! My first year of college was crazy and this summer didn't slow things down much either. Anyways, if you're still reading let me know in a review. I hope everyone is doing well!

P.S. If you're interested in what Draven looks like physically then I personally imagined Tom Hobbs from _Spartacus_ _Vengeance_ playing the part. You of course are welcome to imagine anyone you would like.


	13. Villains and Vengeance

Chapter Thirteen:

**Villains and Vengeance **

_Whitehall Palace, London_

Blair sat in the corner of the royal library, huddled between bookshelves and the balcony railing. She had been there all morning. It was one of the few places she could escape to lately. As the King's wedding to Catherine neared Thomas seemed to move all the more closer to her. The imbecile was everywhere she turned, pleading for her like some sort of pathetic lost puppy. It took all she had not to steal a horse and ride for the hills, forgetting everything and everyone in the process. Of course, this thought was soon forgotten and the idea abandoned. She couldn't run away now for it would be not only her future mother-in-law and queen of England wanting to punish her, but England's sole prince as well. Chuck didn't do well with deception and he had made it quite clear she was no exception in the matter. She had gone into this game willingly and would see it through if she wished to see her head remain atop her shoulders. Her eyes closed and she shuddered at the instant image that followed. _There had been so much blood_—

"You are quite the interesting creature, Lady Blair."

She became alert immediately, looking below at the source of the interruption. Immediately her body tensed up and she closed her book, shoving it between the shelves and her bodice. Then she collected herself and prepared for response.

"Sir Draven," she mused coolly, nodding her head in his direction. Her eyebrows rose in question. "Have you not been taught the proper way of introducing one's presence to a Lady of the Court?"

He smirked, "And whose court may that be, yours or theirs?"

She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "I had no particular court in mind. All follow similar rules of etiquette, yours included I am sure."

Draven laughed, his body and voice seeming to warm with the notion. It was a pleasant sound, almost comforting in fact. She watched as he climbed the ladder up to her, hanging his feet off the edge of the balcony.

"I have no court, my Lady. Have you heard nothing of me since our first meeting? Surely my cousin had something to say about his bastard nephew." The insulting title seemed only to amuse him when it came from his own tongue.

Blair sat forward some, her posture straightening at the mention of Chuck. She knew he would not care for her current company. He had told her several times he didn't like her conversing with other men and that was merely in his presence. If he caught her alone with Draven—she shuddered at the thought, but did her best to calm herself. Chuck had gone hunting for the day. He would not be back until nightfall. No one would have to know of this meeting, not even her own chambermaids.

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I do not recall his mentioning of you, not that I saw the Prince much after the games. I returned to my own chambers for sleeping, as a Lady would, Sir."

He laughed, "Yes, I am sure." There was evident sarcasm in his voice.

Her eyes narrowed. "I do not hope you are moving to question my innocence—"

"I move to do nothing no one else already has," Draven returned, turning to look at her. He shook his head. "Do you know I have only been at Court a few days yet have heard enough whispers about you to tell a week full of stories?"

"You have asked members of the court about me?" Blair asked. She inwardly cowered some, though her outward appearance gave no clue to it. His words were taken with warning, but she refused to let him know that—not yet at least.

"No, not at first. I was asking of the Prince when I saw a pattern, one always leading to mentions of his French whore." He chuckled, "Do know that I hold nothing against you for it though."

"I shall not sit here and be insulted," Blair spat, starting to get up.

He rolled his eyes, making no move to let her by. "Do sit back down, Lady Blair. I do not mean to insult you, but only to make conversation."

"Well I do not care for this conversation," she retorted. She slumped back into her seat, almost wishing for an interruption now. She wasn't quite sure what Draven wanted or meant by his words, but it was evident they weren't merely casual conversation.

"Perhaps you should care about it, my Lady." He sighed, kinking his head some in thought. "You know rumors, whether true or not, eventually reach all ears—even ears of those in high position."

"Are you threatening me?" Blair asked, her eyes widening some. She began to search her head for proof that could be presented to anyone of high rank, the King, or worse—the future queen. The woman would want her head. Would Chuck put a stop to it? He couldn't if the King ordered it.

"Someone would like me to. I do imagine someone would thrive with this information, knowing the damage it could do to someone of more importance than you." He spoke his words with a strange look in his eyes. It was a cold and distance sort of stare he sported with quiet, strange sounding speech.

"Who is this someone who would like to hurt me?" Blair asked carefully, bringing her knees to her chest. She moved to protect herself, and hold herself together physically and emotionally. Now was the time to stay strong, fierce. She would not allow her voice to break or stutter.

Draven turned his head slowly, staring her straight on. "You are a mere pawn in their game. You do see this, do you not?"

_Had he gone mad?_ She shook her head. "I do not understand—"

"I do not believe that. You are a smart woman, Lady Blair. However, you are also of the dumbest. By playing with the prince, you play with fire. There are those who would like to hurt him, but even more who would like to hurt you in the process," he explained, lowering his voice.

Her eyes flickered away from his. "No one will hurt me. I know what I am doing." She began to repeat this in her head, over and over again. Perhaps if she did it enough, she could start to believe it as she did before Draven changed it to doubt.

"I am afraid you do not. Listen to me, Lady Blair—please," he pleaded.

She turned to him, glaring with the coldest of stares. "Why should I? What are you to me, my lover's bastard cousin?" It felt weird calling Chuck her lover, but she saw no other word fit. Plus, she was only kidding herself to try and still play it off to Draven. He knew what was going on between her and the Prince, and apparently he wasn't the only one either.

"You should listen to me because I fear if you do not you shall share the same fate as your once beloved father did. Or have you forgotten him?"

"How dare you!" Blair gasped. She stood up in haste, grabbing onto the balcony. "You have no right to speak of my father. You are nothing, but a—a—"

"A person who does not wish to see your blood spilled as his was. I learned much about you when asking around, Lady Blair. I know what happened to him here, years ago. I only wonder why you would ever return to such a place, take a lover who has your own father's blood on his hands." He shook his head, his voice sounding with disgust on the matter.

"Chuck did not kill my father. He was too young to give such an order. But I assure you he who shares his blood and gave the order will suffer at the hands of my revenge one day." Blair's voice shook with emotion as he spoke and it felt as if her feet would give out from under her. It was hard to talk about her father, speak about him like this. She wanted nothing more than to run to her pillow, crying and screaming like a mad woman in grief.

"You have the plan of a child," Draven scoffed. He looked at her, his eyes seemingly holding a look of pity. "The blood you wish to spill is Royal blood, untouchable blood. And I guarantee your _beloved_ Chuck would see your head from your neck before he saw the spilling of any of it. If you believe anything else, then your too big a fool for even god to give mercy for." He then got up from his seat and hopped down to the floor, starting cross the room.

Blair climbed down the ladder quickly, calling after him. "You would see to those who would hurt me then?" Her voice broke some finally. She couldn't help it.

Draven froze, his back stiffening some. Slowly, he turned around. "No. I see to no one, but myself. If you are smart though, you shall soon do the same."

"H—how?" Blair asked. She would not allow herself to be scared off, but she was not one to rule out all options. She wasn't so pious as to not heed all warnings given to her.

"Do as I will do, when this wedding is over. I shall be gone, a mere memory lost forever to every member at court, including my so-called royal family. It does not matter where you are to go, but only that you are to be gone before they can find you. It is the only way to ensure your safety, but even a risk at that." He was speaking in a mere whisper now, knowing full well the content of their conversation could cost him his own head.

Blair's eyes fell from his. Perhaps she should run—but she couldn't. Chuck would—why was she thinking of him? She needed to think of herself. She sighed, "What if I stayed, married Thomas? I could convince him to take me away from here—"

"And you think the Prince would let you go?" He took a few steps towards her, shaking his head. "He would want you dead for the betrayal before you even stepped onto the aisle."

Blair swallowed a large lump in her throat. She didn't like to imagine Chuck wanting her dead. She shifted on her feet uncomfortably. "Perhaps one day he will grow bored of me, want another. It would not matter then." Her own words stung at her, and she felt a sharp pain in her chest.

"Even if that were true he would not allow another to have you, Blair. Please, get out of the game while you still can. Run. Just run," he told her. His eyes pleaded with hers.

His words frustrated her because she knew she couldn't even begin to take them into consideration. Running wasn't an option, not for her at least. Part of her wanted to flee, but she just couldn't. She told herself that she entered everything that she did knowing the dangers ahead of time. She had considered what could happen, what very well might happen, but had proceeded with her plans and would continue to do so. There was no turning back now. She would win the game or be destroyed by it, even if that meant by death.

She shook her head sadly, her eyes falling from his. "Why is it you care what becomes of me, Sir Draven? We do not know one another."

"No, but I know what you feel in your heart. I know how it feels to want the vengeance you seek, the power you've been denied. I also know trying to achieve it though will only bring you further tragedy," he revealed.

She wasn't entirely sure of what he meant, but decided not to press him further on the matter. Chuck could return soon and it was much more important their conversation cease before that happened than staying to pry for any more information. So she picked herself up and started past him, only stopping momentarily in the doorway. She did not look back at him, but voiced final words ever so carefully.

"I hope you find your vengeance one day as well, Sir Draven." With that, she was gone. And she left with no idea the enemy they shared, was an enemy of the same.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Outskirts of London, England_

Chuck squinted his eyes, trying to properly determine the target. He couldn't seem to hold the gun still though, his hands trembling something terribly. With a sigh of aggravation he let the gun fall to his lap, shaking his head. He began to curse under his breath as other shots fired and the small gathering of animals ran off in different directions.

"Is something the matter, your Highness?" William asked from beside him. He lowered his own, but freshly fired gun. "We have been out here since dawn and you've only reloaded once."

"I suppose I am not in the mood, William," Chuck retorted, sounding on the defense. He didn't want to be questioned in his current state of mind. Something was distracting him, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"Would you like to go in then? I can round up the men," his friend offered.

Chuck shrugged his shoulders, throwing his gun down to a servant boy. He took hold of his horse's reigns and turned it round to the west. He shook his head. "Where is Nathaniel?" He hadn't seen his so-called best friend since they first started out that morning.

William's eyes scanned the fields around them, but he already knew the answer. He nodded forward. "He is over there, beyond the trees with some of the other men. It seems they brought more than a picnic with them." He tried to add humor to the imply, but could tell by Chuck's reaction it had not helped. The prince narrowed his eyes, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Must their cocks always be inside a woman? Even the best of whores are surely to tire when worked round the sun," Chuck murmured. He ignored the fact that had it been earlier that year he would have never said such a thing. It was likely he would have been right there with them, a woman on each side for _comfort_.

William smiled at the remark, finding his own secret amusement from it. "As I am sure you are well are of, your Highness—when one whore tires, there is always another to fill in for her."

Chuck laughed, turning to look at his friend. "I am aware, Sir William. However, I have often wondered if you are." His eyebrows piqued, as his head nodded to the stable boy beside William's horse.

"Your Highness finds enjoyment in the embarrassment of his friends, does he?" William moved to brush the comment off, looking away from Chuck. He began to fidget and shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Chuck sighed, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Fear not, William. I will tell no one of my teasing. Just know only fools can be fooled." He motioned off to the trees, aiming the insult towards Nathaniel and the other clueless men.

William nodded, "Of course I was never to take your Highness as a fool." He then moved his horse forward and looked back at Chuck. "Let us be done with the subject though and on with another. Would your highness like to join his friends beyond the wood?"

Chuck moved his head to the side, watching as a girl danced from between the trees and then fell into the lap of a man. They were half naked and most likely had already been fucked once or twice. He shook his head. "A prince deserves more than spoiled goods on such a grand day, does he not?"

"A grand day?" William questioned. Surely, Chuck was not speaking of the ceremonies that had been leading up to his father's wedding. Everyone knew the Prince wasn't looking forward to it.

"Aye, a grand day. Just look around you, William. The flowers are springing up, every single one of them being thrust into a bloom." He breathed in the fresh air, closing his eyes. "A wise man would not be elsewhere."

"Are you not wise then, your Highness?" William gave him a knowing smirk, though Chuck did not immediately play into it.

He scoffed, "Do you move to insult your Prince?"

"We both know your Highness would gladly be elsewhere, in the arms of a particular woman. Only fools can be fooled." He stared at Chuck, but the Prince only stared off into the sun.

"And what of the other saying, that only fools fall in love with maidens they shouldn't?" Chuck asked quietly.

William frowned, looking around before lowering his voice to the very much private conversation. "Why does your Highness ask of such a thing? You are not in lo—"

"I am a Prince. I can ask of anything without reason, can I not?" Chuck retorted, immediately on the defense.

His friend bowed his head some. "Of course, your Highness. I did not mean to insult you with my questioning. I only wondered—"

"Enough with this, William. Let us return to Whitehall. Gather up the men and tell them to hurry for I rode on," he ordered. His horse started up, kicking its front feet in the air at the pull of the reigns.

"Rode on? Your Highness needs all protection he came with," William objected, looking from Chuck to the still distracted men. Only when turning back to the Prince he already saw him galloping off into the forest.

"Your Highness!" He screamed, but it was to no avail. There was no pulling Chuck from his intended path once he had started it.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Whitehall Palace, London_

Blair walked into the Grand Hall later that day, seeing the pristine members of the English court gathered round the throne. Only the throne was empty, neither the King nor Chuck having returned from their daily activities. She sighed, lifting her dress, and making her way around the room. She wanted someone to talk to, but honestly who was there? It wasn't like she had made many friends, but apparently quite a few enemies. She knew she wasn't liked immediately because of her homeland, but she wasn't exactly fond of the where the people had come from around her either. She never wanted to come to England. If given the choice she'd gladly be back in France, among friends and the beloved ways of the French court she so dearly missed. She sighed, pausing in the middle of the room with a bored look upon her face.

"Blair? Lady Blair Waldorf?"

Her eyes widened at the sound of a familiar voice. She spun around quickly, not believing the sight before her. "Eric? Eric is that you?" Her voice sounded joyously as she ran to him, throwing her arms round his neck.

He laughed, hugging her back. "So the rumors are true then, you are to be England's next Princess? I thought they'd all gone mad around here."

She pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. Then she shook her head. "Let's not talk about that now. I just can't believe it's you. I had heard your family left these parts. What are you doing here now?"

He glanced around, lowered his voice, and sighed. "I am not sure left would be the proper word to use, not that it matters now. We are only right outside of town though. Our family has been given quite the _generous compensation_." There was sarcasm in his voice.

Blair frowned. Eric was never condescending, not the Eric she knew at least. He had always been easygoing and far less dramatic than his sister. She wondered what had changed in him.

"Generous compensation?" Blair echoed. "What for? I heard you left town on account of your mother's health—"

"You have been misinformed then. My mother is alive and well, as is my sister. I suppose we shouldn't talk about it here though, too many watchful eyes," he murmured, glancing around nervously.

"Let us go somewhere else then. We are old friends after all, are we not?" she asked with a smile. Her hand held out to his.

He stared at it a few moments before wrapping his arm around hers. Then he led her properly from the room, but found it hard to ignore the many stares they received. "I did not think I would draw such attention," he noted.

She laughed, "I am afraid you were right to think so. From what I hear it is I they're staring at. Do not tell me you haven't heard the other rumors." They exited the Great Hall, moving into the castle's walled gardens.

"I do not hear much gossip in our part of the country nowadays, not that I miss it," he returned. Then he looked to her. "Why? What have you to tell me of the infamous Blair Waldorf now?"

She parted her lips to speak, but stopped herself. Eric was one of the few people whose ears had yet to be tainted by all Draven spoke of. In a way it was nice to know she still had a friend, if even a clueless one.

"Blair?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It is nothing of importance. Besides you are the one with stories to tell. What has become of my beloved Van der Woodsen's?" She tried to bring lightheartedness back to the conversation, but also pry for information at the same time. She hadn't seen Serena or her family in years, but they were more her friends than anyone she had met since she left France. The girls had been childhood best friends. They would see one another whenever their families would travel back and forth between England and France. It had been a much different time then, a way of life now foreign to her. Seeing Eric now though sure did make her miss it. She missed her summers with Serena, her childhood freedom, and being able to run up to her father at the end of each day. Her heart began to clench with sadness, a sharp pang in the pit of her stomach.

"Are you listening to me at all, Blair?"

Eric's voice brought her from her thoughts. She looked to him, wide eyed and confused. It seemed he had been explaining his story, but she hadn't been listening. She sighed, "I am sorry, Eric. My mind drifted from me."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's alright. To be honest, I don't quite care for telling the story much anyways. Perhaps you could ask around?"

She rolled her eyes, scoffing a laugh. "Like that would get me the truth." Then she sat down, folding her hands across her lap. "But perhaps Serena could write to me about it? I would love to hear from her."

Eric took a seat beside her, shaking his head. "I am not sure that would be wise. Serena could get in trouble if the letter were to fall into certain hands."

She frowned, "Whose hands? Eric, what has happened?"

He sighed, "Well I suppose I have some time before nightfall still…"

**XOXOXOXOXO**

_Whitehall Palace, London_

Chuck rode towards the castle at full speed, seeing the back rims of it finally coming into view. As he advanced he noticed a few heads turn, looking him over with caution. It was strange to see the Prince of England without escort, but he didn't care. None of them would speak to him on the matter, for all were much too frightened to even slightly question his decisions. He smirked to himself, forgetting all that nonsense and focusing his thoughts on Blair. No doubt she would be up in her chambers, waiting on him eagerly like a good little maiden would. Blair was certainly a rebel of sorts in her own right, but not when it came to him. She surely knew by now not to cross matters where he was concerned. Thus, she would be there waiting for him when he finally returned. He kicked his horse once more, feeling the eagerness and aggravation in him about to explode.

"_Your Highness!" _

He winced, the loud sound of a piercing boom surely busting his eardrum. Suddenly, he heard his horse cry out. He was sent to the ground, tumbling forward. He landed on his side, the sharpest of pains ripping through his shoulder and a cheek burned by the scraping of soil and rock. His eyes closed tightly and he cried out in pain.

"Charles, be still! Charles!"

He opened his eyes to the familiar voice, rolling onto his back. The dimming evening sky came into his view, though his vision was still some blurred from the crash. Then he felt someone at his side and a hand upon his cheek. He turned his head, staring at the last person he'd expected to see.

"Father?" He sounded dumbfounded, staring up at a concerned looking Bart. His father ran his freehand over Chuck's chest, then looking from him.

"Call the doctor and search the grounds! His horse has been shot! I want the gunman caught and thrown in the bloody tower of London by full nightfall!" his father boomed, the fiercest of looks upon his face.

_Shot_? His horse had been shot—that meant someone was trying to shoot him. Someone was trying to assassinate him, but who? He turned his head to see a crowd of people now gathering around him, a stretcher, and then felt himself being lifted up onto it. _Was he hurt?_ _Had he been shot?_ His shoulder did hurt, but it didn't feel like a bullet—_not that he knew what a bullet felt like_.

"My—my shoulder." His words were uneven and his lips dry. He looked for his father and surprisingly found Bart hadn't left him yet.

Concerned blue eyes stared down at him, touching his forehead gently. "You landed on a rock, son. The skin is cut and bruised. I do not yet know if the bone is broken though so stay still. Do you hear me, Charles? Stay still." His voice was full of command. Even in such a hectic moment his father still spoke with the sound of a true leader and king.

Chuck barely nodded in response, turning his cheek, and closing his eyes. The pain was pretty bad. He hoped they had medicine for it when the doctor came. He also prayed it wasn't broken. _What was the Prince of England to do with a broken shoulder?_ He bit his tongue hard, tasting blood. Whoever had come after him would pay. He would see to it, not that his father wouldn't, but Chuck wanted to look this man in the eyes when caught. He wanted to watch as his body was put through torture and then inevitable death. He would have his vengeance and the culprit would never hurt or try to hurt him again.

"Take him to his chambers. The doctor will see him there." He heard his father's voice again, barking commands at anyone near as the men carried him inside.

"Should I put the rest of the castle on high alert, your Majesty?"

Bart sighed, even his breath sounding worried and conflicted. "Yes. Make sure all retire to their chambers and lock up. Until this son of a bitch is caught there is no telling whom he may go after."

Chuck frowned, feeling dizzy as they set him down on his bed. The castle was going on high alert—_that didn't happen often_. Then again, no one tried to shoot at him, their bloody prince, that often either. _Did this mean others were in danger too though?_ His father was here, so the King was safe. He didn't really care about the other lords or ladies or—his eyes opened and he practically sat up in bed, but was pushed down by several strong hands.

"I told you to stay still, Charles!" His father yelled, coming into view once more.

Chuck fought back against him though, nostrils flaring. He looked like a mad man and he certainly felt like one. He grabbed his father by the shirt, yanking him close. He spoke directly into his ear, allowing a private conversation between them.

"Blair! Bring me Blair, father! Bring me her now!" Chuck rasped. He then let go of him, falling down back onto the bed. Only he cried out the moment his shoulder hit the pillows. It still stung like hell.

His father stared back at him with frightened looking blue eyes. Then he cleared his throat turning to the nearest servant. "Daniel, will you see that the Lady Blair is safe and secured in her chambers?"

"Yes, your Maj—"

"No!" Chuck yelled. Everyone stopped, turning to look at him. He shook his head, glaring at his father. "Bring her to me. I want her here now."

Bart was still for a moment and then nodded his head, trying to brush the evident scene off. "Do as the Prince says. Find Lady Blair and bring her here. I and the Prince would like to make sure our future Princess is alright."

"Yes, your Majesty." Dan bowed his head and then hurried from the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Slowly everyone got back to work, the noise level in the room returning to normal—_well normal for the hectic scene going on around him._

**XOXOXOXOXO**

A/N: I'm terribly sorry this update took so long, but if you're still reading I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know your thoughts in a review…


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